


Fabulous Monsters

by Wolfine



Category: Highlander: The Series, Kindred: The Embraced
Genre: Duncan MacLeod - Freeform, Highlander - Freeform, Immortals, Julian Luna - Freeform, Kindred the Embraced - Freeform, M/M, Maintain the Masquerade, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 55,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5052616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfine/pseuds/Wolfine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immortal Highlander runs across Kindred Prince...sparks fly, but they both have secrets. Can love survive while Julian keeps the Clans from going to war, and what does Methos know?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seacouver

**Author's Note:**

> Kindred fans: First off, Caitlin is dead. Sorry, sorry, but I respected her  
> feelings for Julian way too much for him to tell her "Ain't gonna work Babe,  
> see ya, bye." So I killed her. Was that too Brujah of me? LOL. I also mention  
> the Garou, which are the race of Werewolves from the White Wolf games. Also,  
> for those not familiar with the "Highlander" premise....there is a race of  
> Immortal people who live among us. They can be wounded, but unless you sever  
> their head, they tend to not die. (Sound familiar?) MacLeod has been around for  
> 400 years, his friend Methos estimated at 5000. Immortals are driven to battle   
> each other with broadswords untilonly one of them remains, but they do occasionally   
> form allies with each other, as MacLeod and Methos have done.
> 
> Highlander fans: This story is going to be rather Kindred-heavy. The "Kindred"  
> are vampires, divided into five groups, or Clans. The Ventrue are politicians  
> and businessmen, Toreador the artisans, Brujah the gangsters and businessmen,  
> Gangrel the rebels and most wolf-like, and the Nosferatu, hairless and often  
> disfigured of face, they are powerful but neutral. The Clans tend to get on  
> each others nerves, but one rule governs them all: maintain the Masquerade. All  
> but the Nosferatu live among us, fiercely guarding their secret of what they  
> are and how they feed on humanity, or they would be hunted down as they were in  
> the old days when people believed in vampires. Breaking the Masquerade by  
> revealing what they are is a sure death sentence.
> 
> *************  
>  Alice could not help her lips curling up into a smile as she began: "Do you  
> know, I always thought Unicorns were fabulous monsters, too! I never saw one  
> alive before!"  
>  "Well, now that we *have* seen each other, " said the Unicorn, "if you'll  
> believe in me, I'll believe in you. Is that a bargain?"
> 
> Alice through the Looking Glass  
>  Lewis Carroll  
> **************

Lillie stretched herself across Julian's bed, her Cheshire grin matching her  
movements to invoke a sense of the feline. "If you're only packing your lucky  
underwear, it's no wonder you became Prince. That has to be the fifth pair I've  
seen."

Julian glanced at her, a good-natured smile gliding onto his face, and folded  
another pair of silk boxers into his suitcase. "I like to be prepared. I may  
need some luck."

"Nonsense." Lillie rose and headed for another refill of her wineglass. Julian  
watched her from the corner of his eye, admiring her graceful poise. She was  
dressed in cream colored hosiery and one of those silky, slip-like things. He  
never could figure out what the hell to call them, but they seemed to suit her  
very well, moving and shifting to accent her body beautifully. She turned  
quickly and caught him looking at her, but said nothing. She knew better than  
to push Julian in matters of the heart. After Caitlin's death, Julian had  
pulled away from her so much, and she had feared never to share his bed again.  
But while he had allowed her the comfort of his arms, his heart seemed full of  
shadows. Lillie offered him all she could- solace on long nights, and her  
support. "I doubt you will have any trouble."

Julian merely smiled and continued packing, thinking of the coming trip. He  
was the Prince of his city, the well respected, governing Kindred for all of  
San Francisco and the surrounding area. The last time he had left his beloved  
city had been ten years ago, ending in a fatal battle between himself and the  
Brujah who held their blood-grudge with him. Caitlin had remembered nothing  
from that weekend, but it was a moot point a few weeks later when she was  
struck by a car. Archon too had been taken from him the weekend he had been  
away, at the hands of the then new Brujah Primogen, Cameron. Julian had  
struggled in the following years, slowly coming to terms with both Archon and  
Caitlin's deaths, Archon avenged finally when Cameron was destroyed. It made  
for risky business for his heart then, to be slipping out of his city once  
more, but the new Brujah Primogen who had risen to power was as dispassionate  
and clear-headed as Eddie Fiori had not been, and without Cameron's need for  
Julian's death. The young Brujah's main concern in life was money, not power,  
and peace had been maintained for years because he knew the quickest and most  
quiet ways to get it. Julian Luna was a good businessman, but his Brujah  
Primogen put him to shame. It was the kind of thing that you didn't mind losing  
your shorts to the guy because you were too busy admiring his technique.

It was only because there had been such peace among the clans that Julian even  
entertained the idea of visiting Thomas Grendal in Seacouver. Grendal had lived  
under Julian's rule, becoming a close friend, before moving northward and  
establishing his own there. It had been more difficult as there were fewer  
Kindred over greater distances, but Thomas had managed. Their greatest problem  
had been the Garou, Kindred hating werewolves who considered the land theirs  
and made it their sole purpose in life to hunt down every Kindred they found.  
However, an accident at a power plant recently had forced the Garou to leave  
the area as they were far more sensitive to the escaping toxins, and Thomas had  
asked Julian to come up. He wanted the advice of his former Prince, and Julian  
also suspected Thomas wanted to show off his territory a bit. With the Garou  
gone, it was relatively safe, and Thomas would no doubt benefit from Julian's  
experience in establishing a greater Kindred stronghold. By the time the Garou  
returned, if they ever did, the tables would be turned in the Kindred's favor.

"Still," muttered Lillie, wrinkling her nose, "I'm glad I don't have to do all  
your laundry." 

Julian arched a playful eyebrow at her, making her grin in spite of herself.  
"When I get back, this floor better not be covered in pantyhose." His lips  
quirked in amusement.

Lillie heaved a theatrical sigh, knowing what Julian was really saying.  
"Julian, Daedalus and I will keep your city in its pristine condition. I  
promise you, no mountains of unwashed socks, no one will break the Masquerade,  
no street will flow with blood, no library books will be overdue..."

"Mmmm..." Julian nodded and quickly stepped to his night table to retrieve a  
book, which he tucked into the side pocket of his suitcase before he closed it.  
"I do have faith in you." 

Lillie had no doubt he did, otherwise he would never leave. She rose and gave  
him a warm kiss good-bye as Cash came to haul Julian's case down to the waiting  
car. The Prince returned her kiss, but she still felt the absence of any real  
feeling. In earlier times, she would have been devastated, but now she accepted  
the situation. Julian left in a whoosh of tailored black wool, stopping at the  
bottom of the stairs to exchange parting words with the Nosferatu, Daedalus.  
The disfigured Kindred took the hand of his sovereign and bowed low, pledging  
his loyalty. Julian's old friend would die to keep the city safe while Julian  
was gone, and Lillie would do her best to keep it a secret that the Prince was  
not in the city at all. It was a risky venture, but with the Clans at peace,  
there was no better time to take a trip. Lillie returned to her glass of wine  
as Julian's car left the compound.  
* * *  
A light rain was falling when Julian finished his meeting with Thomas and  
slipped free from Cash's watch. The elder Kindred chuckled, knowing there was  
going to be hell to pay when he returned to the hotel. As much as he was the  
Prince, his bodyguard had no problem reading him the riot act when Julian went  
off on his own. And while Cash's attitude was partly out of respect and genuine  
love for his Prince, Julian also knew that, should anything happen to him,  
Lillie would rip Cash to shreds upon his return. At times Julian was hard  
pressed to decide which of the two was more smothering. 

He wound his away around town, not really having a destination in mind. He  
blended well with the shadows when he wanted to, and his step was silent,  
barely attracting the attention of any of the late night humanity that roamed  
the streets. It was times like this he felt most free, but he never let his  
guard completely down. He was Kindred, after all, and he hadn't survived for so  
long by being ignorant. The quiet of most of the buildings called to him and  
soothed his nerves, allowing him to think without consequences, without  
everyone watching his face and trying to figure out what he was thinking. He  
climbed the fire escape of a brick building to be closer to the half moon, and  
settled himself onto the edge of the roof, turning his collar up to keep the  
rain from running down his neck. It tickled his sensitive, Kindred skin, and  
drove him nuts. He took a cleansing breath and swung his legs freely, feeling a  
bit like a child for doing so. He bathed in the moonlight as it peeked between  
clouds, missing Archon suddenly, when the sound of music fluttered skyward and  
caught his attention. 

There was a small bar below, and some leaving patrons had swung open the door,  
allowing the sounds to escape. Once shut, the street was quiet again, and  
Julian strained to hear the music. It had been a mellow Jazz song, and would go  
nicely with his relaxing mood. Climbing down the iron ladder, he decided to  
feed prior to walking into the place. It would keep his hunger at bay and  
prevent his complexion from looking so freakishly pale. Kindred skin under bar  
lights tended to look more bizarre than any other time and drew unwanted  
attention to its owner. Pushing off from the last rung, he hunted a few blocks  
before spotting a young male, slightly unsteady on his feet and not paying much  
attention. Julian enclosed the young man in his arms and whispered into the  
shell of his ear, quieting him as if he were a skittish racehorse. The man  
finally relaxed against Julian's body, and Julian guided him into the shadow of  
a tall building. Breaking the skin gently, Julian fed, swept away for a heady  
moment in the feel of warm blood sliding over his tongue. There was no  
experience quite like it, and Julian reluctantly released the tender neck,  
licking at the wounds to close them. He fished for a wallet, memorizing the  
address on the license, and called a cab for the now slumbering man. He paid  
the cab driver well, and made his way back to the little bar. A sign outside  
proclaimed the place as "Joe's."

Stepping into the bar, he was disappointed to find that the band seemed to be  
taking a break. The place was nearly empty at this late hour but Julian hoped  
they would play one more set before the bar closed. Now that he was here, he  
decided to have a drink anyway. There were no Kindred here, another factor that  
had him relaxing unconsciously. There was only one man sitting at the bar and  
the bartender was in a quiet conversation with him, so Julian stepped close to  
give the bearded man his order. Unfortunately, Julian's leg bumped into some  
sort of pole the seated man was concealing in his long jacket, causing the top  
of the pole to jog the man's arm and spill his entire drink onto the bar and  
himself. The man sputtered and leaned back on his seat, trying in vain to keep  
from wearing the alcohol. 

This caused the bartender to break into low laughter. "You know Duncan, I  
always wondered why this didn't happen to you more often!" Wheezing and  
snorting, the barkeep leaned under the counter to fetch more rags, trying to  
keep from falling over in his merriment.

"Oh sure. Yuck it up, Joe." Duncan waved his hands, dripping good whiskey onto  
the polished surface.

Julian grabbed the small towel already on the bar and began apologies.  
"Forgive me, please! I am so sorry." At that moment, Duncan looked up at him  
with an exasperated scowl, but it quickly faded as Julian's heartfelt apology  
finally registered. He blinked up at Julian, staring mutely for several  
seconds, which afforded the Kindred the chance to take in a good look. The man  
was beautiful, no argument there, thought Julian, as he cataloged each feature.  
The dark eyes seem to have guarded secrets, their hue matching his  
raven-colored hair, setting off his curvaceous lips and putting them on public  
display. His skin seemed to glow with the sort of health that made Julian's  
mouth water, and his deep voice held an intriguing accent. Julian breathed  
deep, filtering out the sharp tang of the alcohol. He found the man's scent,  
combined with the earthy smell of cold northwest rain, underneath which ran the  
heat-smell of warm, rich blood. While his beauty tugged at Julian's sense of  
esthetics, the blood was like a siren's call to his Kindred nature. As Lillie  
would say, the man was pure sex walking.

"Uh, that's okay. Uhm..." Julian handed the man the towel from the bar, not  
trusting himself to keep hold of it any longer before he started running it  
over the man's lap to dab at the wetness there. The bartender also came up with  
a drier towel and stood watching the display. Duncan dried his fingers and  
smiled slightly at the tall stranger who had just doused him. "My fault,  
really. It's all right." He mopped at his damp shirt and lap, stealing another  
look upwards. By the look on the man's face, he really was sorry, and Duncan  
found himself staring into those eyes again. They were both dark, but one iris  
was pure black while the other was more hazel, with shifting hints of green and  
bronze. They gave him a feral look, like a wild husky, or wolf. His sleek, dark  
hair formed an exotic widow's peak at his forehead, and, just under his nose, a  
small scar rested on his upper lip. Nothing more than a pale scratch, really,  
but Duncan found himself wondering how it would feel to touch it. Immortals  
sometimes found such reminders of mortality fascinating; only occurring in his  
own kind if they were obtained prior to the first death. An almost electric  
buzz seemed to pass between the two men, more sexual than a quickening, and  
scattered Duncan's concentration. Joe rolled his eyes and cleared his throat  
politely.

Julian thought quickly, wanting to make amends and give himself an excuse to  
stay by the man's side. "Please, allow me to buy you another drink." He  
reached for his wallet, but the bartender stopped him.

"It's okay, it's on the house." Joe had refilled Duncan's glass and poured one  
for Julian. "I haven't had that good a laugh all evening." Being a good  
bartender, he knew when to make himself scarce, and trundled his way down to  
the other end of the bar to wait on his remaining patrons. 

Julian sat down gingerly and swabbed up the last of the liquid on the bar.  
"I'm usually not so clumsy." He also wasn't stupid, and despite the man's  
beauty, Julian's natural protective instincts had kicked in. He kept his voice  
low, leaned fractionally closer, and speared Duncan with an intense look. "May  
I ask, are you carrying a weapon in your coat?"

Duncan looked at him, his mouth working as he decided whether to lie to him or  
not. Something in the man's expression made Duncan think the dark stranger  
would know if he were lying. He appreciated that the other man could mistake  
his katana for a rifle. He gave a teasing smile, and leaned closer himself to  
speak in soft tones. "Technically, yes and no." The other man arched an eyebrow  
at him, waiting for Duncan to elaborate. "I'm an antiques dealer, and I have an  
old sword in my jacket." It unnerved Duncan to admit this to a mortal, but he  
didn't want the man to think he had plans on robbing the bar. Best to go with  
the truth for now. He extended his hand to the other man. "Duncan MacLeod."

"Ah, yes. Julian Luna." Julian took the offered hand and wrapped his fingers  
firmly around the warm skin, marveling at the smooth spots on the large hand.  
It was all he could do to keep from bringing that hand to his lips, but he did  
allow himself a small stroke along Duncan's thumb knuckle. He could tell by the  
blush that rose on Duncan's cheeks that this first touch was as exciting to him  
as it was to Julian. "I believe I've purchased several pieces from you."

Duncan was intrigued. "Really? I don't recall your name."

"I never give my name." Julian smiled ruefully but his eyes made no apologies.  
"I'm a business man who enjoys privacy." Duncan nodded knowingly; he rarely  
met any of the big buyers personally. Struck by a sudden, playful urge, Julian  
flashed him a sneaky smile and bit his lower lip. "So, can I see it?"  
Something about the way he said it reminded Duncan of stolen kisses in the  
thick of the forest, hiding from those who would never expect him to 'want that  
sort of thing.' It also made Julian's face undeniably sexy. However, Duncan was  
an Immortal, and his first instinct was to deny Julian a peek at his sword, but  
he told himself what he really wanted was to put Julian's mind completely at  
ease about just what he had stashed in his coat. In the face of that  
rationalization, it was easy to duck his head close to Julian's and let his  
jacket fall open, exposing the carved hilt of his katana. 

Julian gasped softly in the semi-private cave their bodies had created,  
reveling in the intimate scents there, carried on the rising heat from the warm  
body. The sword was nice too. "This is a very unique piece. It's wonderful."  
Too cultured to ask what Duncan had paid for such a thing, he still marveled at  
the craftsmanship, and why the piece was not in some dusty museum. His hand  
rose fractionally, wanting very much to feel the intricate carving, but stopped  
short, feeling like a line would be crossed should he do so. He looked at  
Duncan questioningly. 

Duncan stole a quick glance down the bar, feeling suddenly very exposed. Joe  
was busy chatting up a couple at the other end, and they were the last ones in  
the bar. He turned back to Julian and nodded, unconsciously breathing slightly  
heavier in anticipation and not at all surprised when he felt his cock twitch.  
Feeling like a naughty boy, he watched as the other man gently stroked the  
ornate hilt, fingertips tracing the lines and whorls of the design. Julian ran  
his strong fingers over the dragon's head and thumbed the underside of the  
carving, caressing the phallic embodiment of Duncan's deadliness. The eroticism  
of the act was not lost on either man, and Julian searched Duncan's flushed  
face for signs he had misread those first few smiles he had been given. All he  
could see was bridled lust mirrored back at him, and if it weren't for the rest  
of the people at the bar, he had no doubt Duncan would be stretched out along  
the polished wood, fucking like a mink. Julian made a loop of his fingers and  
wrapped them around the hilt, slowly sliding towards the blade, and wet his  
lips. Duncan swallowed loudly by his ear, the man's breath becoming uneven,  
when Julian realized they had attracted the attention of the bartender. He  
hastily let go of Duncan's sword and took a nonchalant sip of his drink. Duncan  
wasn't half so smooth, closing his coat flap swiftly, straightening suddenly,  
and blushing to his roots.

Joe had made as much noise as he could as he walked towards them, shaking his  
head and marveling at the Immortal's ability to bed anything with a pulse.  
Watching the dark haired stranger made him wonder, though, if Duncan realized  
how much he was being charmed as well. Side by side, they fit together, like a  
couple of stunning bookends. "One for the road, gentlemen?"

Julian shook his head no. Duncan finally found his tongue, which surprised  
Joe, who would have bet money the Immortal had swallowed it. "No, ah, none for  
me, thanks. Uh, Joe, this is Julian Luna. He's an antiques collector."

Joe shook the offered hand, smiling graciously. "You're hunting in Seacouver,  
then?"

Julian blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"For antiques. You've come to the right man, Duncan knows where all the good  
stuff is." Joe studied Julian while pretending to be busy putting away their  
glasses.

Julian smiled. "I'm sure he does, to be able to find a sword like that one." 

Duncan almost did swallow his tongue then, while Joe gave him a 'I can't  
believe you let him see your sword!' look. Feeling a bit like a slut, Duncan  
decided the show was over. "I do my best. Well, thanks for the drinks, Joe." He  
rose, buttoning his coat, and was happy to see Julian had risen as well.  
Looking at the other man, he was a bit startled to see that Julian was somewhat  
shorter than himself.

Julian nodded graciously to Joe. "Yes, thank you very much. I look forward to  
coming back to hear the band."

Joe grinned. Yep, this one was a charmer all right. "We play tomorrow night,  
if you're still in town." Duncan had started to walk towards the door, but he  
hesitated and Joe could almost see his ears perk.

Julian smiled warmly. "Great. Perhaps I can stop by tomorrow. Thank you,  
again." He turned then, and followed Duncan outside. To the Kindred's dismay,  
the slight drizzle was working itself up to be a pouring rain, and he knew he'd  
be a drowned rat by the time he walked back to his hotel. Huddled close to  
Duncan under the slight overhang, he wondered how fast he could get a cab at  
this hour. 

Duncan was busy forming other ideas. "My car's the last one. You walk here?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Mmm. You *are* from out of town." Julian chuckled good naturedly. "I could  
drop you off wherever you're staying, or..." Duncan hesitated, trying to see if  
that steamy light was still in Julian's eyes. It was. "My place isn't far from  
here, if you'd like...." Duncan ran out of words, suddenly shy about his  
pick-up line. 

Julian placed a hand at his back and leaned close enough to Duncan's ear to  
raise gooseflesh with his warm breath, a shocking contrast to the chill air.  
"I'd like."

Small words, but they shot straight to Duncan's groin, bringing a grin to his  
face as he headed down the stone steps. "Okay, last one to the car's a rotten  
egg." He heard Julian chuckle behind him as he bent his head against the rain  
and sprinted towards his car, but amazingly Julian was waiting for him by the  
time he reached the vehicle. He had very little time to think about it though,  
as he fumbled with keys and hastily unlocked the door for the other man. Once  
out of the downpour, both men spent a moment looking at each other and  
laughing, slightly amused at their soaked condition and working off some of the  
excitement they both felt.

The drive to Duncan's place was relatively quiet as the Immortal needed all  
his concentration to navigate through the downpour. They got another soaking  
while running into his building, but Duncan decided it was a handy excuse to  
get the first layer of clothes off of them, and watching Julian shake water off  
himself in the elevator reminded Duncan again of a wolf. While Duncan sensed no  
danger from the man, there was a definite air of something wild held firmly in  
check, kept at arms length by the need to be petted and stroked. 

Duncan lifted the grating and strode into his loft. "Come on in," he invited.

"Thank you." Duncan took Julian's coat and hung it with his own to dry,  
noticing how the other man swept an appreciative gaze around his home. "This is  
a wonderful place. Have you lived here long?"

Duncan almost sighed, wishing they could skip the nearly-lies, but it was part  
of the price he paid for being what he was. "Not overly long. I lived in Paris  
for a while. Take your shoes off, get comfortable."

"Mmm, good idea." Julian quickly toed off his wet shoes, wriggling his toes in  
freedom and slipping out of his jacket and tie, hanging them over one of the  
kitchen stools. Duncan was rummaging in a drawer for a corkscrew.

"Care for a glass of wine?" he asked Julian.

"Mmm, great. Thanks." Julian watched Duncan dispatch the wine with practiced  
ease, admiring his hands again and wondering how they were going to feel  
running over his hip. He shivered slightly in anticipation, which Duncan  
noticed. "It's...damp out tonight."

Duncan nodded and moved around the counter to hand Julian his glass, suddenly  
wanting very much to be close to him. Julian stayed put, eager to feel the  
man's heat along his body. Breathing deeply, Duncan closed what little space  
there was left between them and gently rubbed his cheek against Julian's,  
pitching his voice to a sexual purr. "I can think of a few ways to get warm." 

Julian grinned like a fox, letting Duncan's nearness wash over him in a  
tingling tide. "Yeah?" he answered softly, and drug his eyes up from a rather  
bewitching set of lips to stare into Duncan's rapt gaze. Holding the other  
man's attention, he ran his lips gently over Duncan's, marveling at their  
softness. Duncan's eyes shuttered closed as Julian slipped his tongue inside  
his parted mouth, and the intensely intimate touch burst through Julian's  
sensory awareness like a blaze, the wet heat searing his Kindred tongue with  
it's human fire. 

Without thought, he gripped Duncan's shirt, dragging the man even closer to  
him and wrapped his arms around Duncan in a possessive embrace, his hand  
cradling the back of his head to keep him still. A tight moan escaped from  
Duncan's throat as his own hands scrabbled at Julian's body, his focus shot as  
that magic tongue worked his mouth. Julian deepened the kiss as he felt Duncan  
slip a sly leg between his own thighs, causing welcome pressure to Julian's  
groin. Duncan began to breathe heavily through his nose, not wanting to end the  
tongue-fucking he was receiving, but air was becoming a priority. Julian  
reluctantly released his treasure, nuzzling Duncan's mouth and jaw as the other  
man stood panting. Julian tilted his face up and rubbed noses with Duncan,  
making him smile. 

"Listen...I have to, uhm..." Duncan made vague gestures towards his bathroom,  
a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

Julian found it endearing. "Oh, sure. I have to call my bodyguard and tell him  
I'll be...late." This made both men laugh softly, knowing it was a bold faced  
lie. With one last wet nibble, Duncan tore himself away from Julian's arms and  
made his way to the bathroom. He looked back to catch Julian mesmerized by the  
swaying of his ass, the spell only broken by the shutting door.

Julian literally shook himself and went to the coat rack to dig his cell phone  
out, willing his erection to calm down and be patient. Lifting the dead-looking  
phone out, he knew Cash was going to pop a new vein because his Prince had  
deliberately turned the ringer off. Julian dialed and swept back to the table  
to sip some of the wine Duncan had poured him. He was in the middle of  
cataloging the intricate flavors when he heard Cash's firm voice.

"Where are you?"

"Cash....I'm fine, and will remain so. I'm seeing a friend..."

"Thomas is the *only* friend you have up here Julian, and he doesn't know  
where you are!" 

Julian could picture the young Gangrel, snarl of anger and fear barely kept in  
check only because Cash held respect for him. "Cash, I'm not going to be  
returning to the hotel tonight."

"You..WHAT? Jul..."

"I will be fine, Cash. Please be ready when I return tomorrow morning."

"Damnit! Julian..You can't..."

Julian sighed as he disconnected the line and switched the ringer off. Cash  
would get no sleep, that was for sure. If he had ridden his bike instead of  
driving the big car to Seacouver, Julian had no doubt the Gangrel would be  
noisily scouring the streets, looking for him. He slipped the quiet phone back  
into his coat and turned his attention to Duncan's apartment. There was a sense  
of spacious relaxation about it, bare spots filled in with antiquities from  
many countries and a large bookshelf which caught Julian's eye. One could tell  
a lot about a man from his reading material and his taste in music, and Julian  
was eager to know more. Sipping the wine, he absently ran his gaze over the  
titles, noting several volumes on history, war, architecture and philosophy;  
the staple library of an intelligent person with diverse interests. One book's  
slim spine bore a symbol which jogged Julian's memory-he had seen it before. In  
Daedalus' own library, if he was not mistaken.

Pulling the book out from between two thick volumes of Shakespeare, he  
wandered back to the couch where there was more light. He set his wine aside  
and opened to the second, yellowed page. Sure enough, the elegant handwritten  
text declared this to be the fourth book of Namaith. Julian blinked in  
surprise. He knew from his talks with Daedalus that the books were extremely  
rare, few having been hand copied in the first place, and many burned as being  
the work of the devil himself. Settling back into the couch, Julian mused on  
the accuracy of the idea. He recalled Archon telling him about the legend of  
Namaith one night as they lay curled together by the fire. Julian had only been  
a Kindred for a few short months, and his head buzzed with questions on the  
history and origins of what he had become. While Namaith was by no means the  
start of the Kindred, his life made for some of the most important lessons. 

Flipping through the pages, he let the binding decide where to stop, one place  
more open and worn. One side contained text, but Julian's eyes were drawn to  
the opposite page which displayed a full-frontal illustration of a young, naked  
man being embraced. The man was obviously highly aroused, blood flowing in a  
thin line down the side of his neck as the Kindred penetrated him from behind,  
fondling the man's taut nipples as he drank. The image would have been more  
savage, if it were not for the look of pure pleasure on the man's face. Turning  
the page revealed another picture, this one of a young black woman held aloft  
in the arms of a Kindred, arms wrapped firmly around the neck of her lover  
while her own neck was being feasted on. The Kindred's pale phallus was buried  
to the hilt in the woman in this one as well, the only hint at anything  
diabolical was the trail of blood tracking down the mortal's narrow back. A  
third image depicted a mortal man, cradled in strong arms, receiving blood from  
the wound on the breast of a male Kindred as the Kindred pumped him to orgasm.   
Despite himself, Julian had to admit the images held an erotic charge, and he  
flipped back to read the page of text...

"Nothing more vile, between heaven and earth,  
More darker than this, at moment of birth.

Born of anger, born of pain,  
Born of hunger, love is slain.  
Blood rains on the mountain,  
Blood flows underneath,  
We celebrate the blood-  
Flowing between our teeth.  
Born in sickness, born in death,  
Borne on the whisper of your last breath.  
Blood rains on the plow fields,  
Blood flows underneath,  
Blood flowing from my eyes,  
In my torrential grief.  
Sheltering darkness, withering light,  
We witness another soul become,  
A drinker of the night."

It was a sort of embracement prayer, and a quick scan of some other pages  
confirmed Julian's suspicions. This particular volume read like a Kama Sutra  
for Kindred, and how to embrace mortals to populate entire regions. He knew  
from Archon's tales that Namaith's exploits were one reason the Masquerade had  
been instituted, the open assault on humanity and disregard for the danger  
mortals represented cost many Kindred their existence. But listening to Archon,  
he had no idea the ancient Kindred had been so sensual. Or perhaps it was  
because the volumes Archon had were mostly the fanatical ravings and strategy  
of a madman bent on elevating Kindred to the dominant form of life. He had no  
idea the old Kindred had been as consumed with desire for mortals as sexual  
creatures as well as fodder for his conquest. In fact-

"A little light reading?"

With a startled gasp, Julian jumped suddenly, snapping the book shut and  
gaping into the dark, glittering eyes of the half-naked man in front of him. He  
cursed himself for being so pre-occupied with his thoughts that he hadn't even  
heard the mortal leave the bathroom and stalk over. Half embarrassed, Julian  
let out a deep sigh while Duncan smirked at him and leaned over to taste  
Julian's mouth again. Julian ran his hands down Duncan's flank, noting he had  
changed into a pair of soft, black sweats and smelled of soap, lubricant and  
desire. 

Duncan half crawled onto his lap, running his own hands down Julian's chest,  
moaning softly and dislodging buttons as he went. The Kindred shivered as  
calloused fingertips slid along his skin, blindly seeking the firmer flesh of  
his nipples. In no time at all, Duncan's thumb had found its goal and the  
rubbing and pinching was starting to make Julian squirm breathlessly. He gave  
Duncan's ass a firm squeeze, the tips of his fingers brushing between the  
cheeks, letting Duncan know how impatient he was growing. Julian was stone  
hard, and Duncan had yet to even touch his cock. He had to get Duncan in bed  
and out of these damn clothes!

Letting go of the man's tongue required more self discipline than Julian  
thought he possessed, but he tore his mouth away at last, brushing a thumb over  
the swollen lips as he pushed his head away. Julian opened his mouth  
soundlessly, searching his mind for words. "Bed..." he finally managed, hoping  
Duncan wasn't going to require more than one word sentences until dawn  
tomorrow. Duncan, dragging in ragged breaths, rose from the couch, causing the  
forgotten book to drop with an undignified thunk onto the floor. Both men  
stared at it stupidly, trying to remember what it was and if it was important  
to them. Julian wobbled up off the couch, his erection obvious in his tailored  
slacks. Duncan gave him a questioning look.

"Pretty wild stuff in there," he said, indicating the book now on the floor.

Julian gave him a wolfish smile, feeling suddenly and wickedly alive. "Mmmm. I  
especially liked this one." He grabbed Duncan around the hips and raised the  
man into an embrace. Duncan instinctively wrapped his arms and legs around him  
to keep from crashing to the floor, and blinked in confusion. He was by no  
means a slight man, yet Julian seemed to hold his weight without collapsing.  
Apparently Julian was a lot stronger than he appeared, and Duncan gasped in  
surprise.

In an instant, Julian realized he risked the Masquerade. Thinking quickly, his  
eyes widened in alarm, he buckled his legs and fell back onto the couch. Duncan  
bounced on his lap, his own erection rubbing Julian's hard cock, tempting the  
Kindred to just fling him over his shoulder and drag him off to bed, the  
Masquerade be damned. Duncan laughed heartily, and Julian joined him, mocking  
himself. "Well, that didn't work out too well, did it?" 

Duncan rubbed his brow against Julian's, his smile infectious. "Tell you  
what," he began, "if you want to be a caveman, you can hunt me!" Without  
warning he was off the couch and disappearing into the bedroom.

Oh yeah, thought Julian as he watched the Highlander's ass working, like that  
was an offer he could pass up.

Getting his feet under him, he trotted after Duncan as fast as his straining  
penis would allow. Skidding to a halt by the bed, he found Duncan nowhere in  
sight. A quick scan of the room with his Kindred senses revealed the man was  
hiding just behind the door, watching him with shameless hunger. Chuckling to  
himself, Julian decided to see if he could flush out the errant mortal, and  
started tugging at his clothes. He finished undoing the shirt buttons Duncan  
had started, peeling away the cotton from his body, stretching and bunching his  
muscles with some exaggeration. He slowly worked at the belt buckle, teasing  
himself and Duncan until he finally had the zipper free. His rigid cock bounced  
into view and Julian relaxed visibly, running his hands down his ass to drag  
his slacks and shorts, oh so slowly, off slim hips. Once the pants were a  
puddle around his ankles, he bent over and tugged off his socks, hearing a  
shuddered gasp from behind the door. By the time he straightened up, his quarry  
was at his side, softly panting. Julian gave Duncan a predatory smile, and  
allowed the other man free reign to explore his body.

Fingers splayed, Duncan's hands glided over Julian's shoulders and chest,  
memorizing the supple skin as it danced over hard muscle. He had no idea Julian  
would look so good, his tailored suits still hid too much of the man's inherent  
beauty. Dark, sparse hair furred his chest, outlining and defining firm ridges,  
while his flat stomach twitched and bunched under Duncan's touch. Unable to  
hold back any longer, Duncan reached down to pet Julian's stiff cock, causing  
it to leak and jump while Julian moaned and grabbed Duncan's shoulders for  
support. Duncan glanced up to see Julian, head thrown slightly back and eyes  
closed in bliss, giving himself over in utter abandon. Squeezing gently, Duncan  
made Julian hiss as he ran a fingertip through the clear liquid oozing from the  
head. Julian jerked as Duncan palmed his balls and leaned forward to pant into  
his ear.

"You...have too many...clothes on.." Julian nibbled the ear as he slid sure  
hands down Duncan's sides, making the other man shiver. He was about to rip the  
sweats off of him, but what was good for the gander was certainly good for the  
other gander-or something like that, and he went back to Duncan's chest to see  
just how sensitive Duncan's nipples were. Duncan gave an open-mouthed groan as  
Julian grabbed both of them, flicking his finger pads over them and circling  
around to squeeze them slightly. When he let them go, Duncan moaned at the  
loss, leaning closer seeking further contact. Julian reached his hands behind  
Duncan's head and undid his hair tie, sending it spinning into a corner as he  
carded strong fingers through the soft tresses. 

Only then did he turn his attention to the offending sweats, sliding his hands  
under the waistband and down to cover Duncan's ass, pushing the material away  
with a decisive movement. They got as far as his thighs, but Duncan wiggled and  
they dropped obediently to the floor. Julian purred his appreciation, unable to  
keep his hands from caressing all that warm, golden skin. Duncan sighed in  
pleasure, happy to be naked at last in front of Julian. It hadn't occurred to  
him on a level he was aware of, but standing exposed to his soon to be lover  
was nearly as erotic as the act of love itself. A warm hand encircled Duncan's  
rigid cock, caressing at first, then giving it a firm tug which momentarily  
stole his breath from him. Julian nuzzled his neck as he writhed into that  
hand, his arms around Julian as if he needed to hang on for dear life. Small,  
needy noises from Duncan made Julian grin, reveling in the mating-scent the man  
was giving off.

Julian played with Duncan for a bit, amazed at how responsive he was, and how  
everything Julian did to him seemed exactly right. Markedly absent were the  
required comic bumping of elbows and accidental hair pulling, the usual outcome  
of two large men trying to learn each other's dance. He kissed Duncan again,  
loving the feel of the mortal's heartbeat through this intimate muscle, a faint  
hum against his own tongue. Duncan's whole body was beginning to tremble, so  
Julian pulled away and gave a tiny shove, chuckling as Duncan crashed like a  
timber onto the bed. He reached down and freed Duncan's legs from the last of  
his clothing, then licked his way up the mortal's body until they were nose to  
nose again. The light of the half moon crept in through a window and splashed  
across Duncan's skin, painting it a surreal blue, sharp contrast to the golden  
color Julian had tasted before. Duncan ran his fingers through Julian's short  
hair, purring with desperation, enjoying the feel of Julian pressing against  
him, but needing a more commanding touch. 

Straddling Duncan, Julian rose to his knees and guiding with hands on hips,  
turned Duncan onto his stomach. The sight of the smooth, muscled back ending in  
the perfect round globes of his ass made Julian catch his breath. He would have  
given much to have Daedalus paint the mortal this way, so that he would have  
this vision forever. As Duncan rolled his hips in invitation, Julian's cock  
made him forget about moonlight and paint and forever, and he grasped the man  
firmly, raising him to his knees and dipping a finger into the warm crevice.

Duncan hissed in appreciation, and drove himself back as that finger found the  
opening and pushed gently in. Duncan moaned happily. He always loved this part,  
the first feelings of someone being inside him, opening him and making him a  
part of them. Just as gently the finger slid out, causing intense sensation in  
the ring of guardian muscle. Before he had time to really miss it though, it  
was sliding back in, making opposite but no less intense feelings. More fingers  
were added, and Duncan's cock started to leak profusely onto the sheets.

Judging by the sounds coming from Duncan and the relaxing of his muscles,  
Julian knew he was ready. He spotted the lube that had been left on the bedside  
table, amazed at Duncan's thorough preparations. Adding a small amount to his  
own cock, Julian positioned himself, stopping only to kiss Duncan's back,  
making the man whine out a strangled "Please..." Julian pushed, hissing at the  
marvelous feelings of his cock head popping into Duncan at last, feeling the  
other man breathe out and relax. Duncan accepted him so well, Julian worked his  
way completely in with more aggression, feeling the man tense only slightly. He  
hesitated once he was sheathed, knowing by Duncan's tightness that this had to  
be causing some amount of pain, and that Duncan had not done this in a while.  
He kissed the broad back, gently caressing his shoulders and whispering to him  
how sexy Duncan was, and that he would gladly stay here for the rest of his  
life if Duncan agreed. Julian knew the man was ready when Duncan wiggled around  
him and whispered back how short that life would be if Julian didn't start  
moving. 

Chuckling softly, Julian grabbed Duncan's hips and began to impale his lover,  
making the man moan and hiss in pleasure. He drove into him again and again,  
teasing the man by almost pulling completely out, hesitating, then slamming  
back in until Duncan's ass bounced against his own hips. Duncan was by no means  
passive, pushing himself backwards impatiently when Julian hesitated too long.  
Julian slapped him smartly on one ass cheek, the stinging sensation getting  
Duncan's attention quickly. Julian pulled completely out, surprised at how fast  
Duncan whipped his head around to glare at him, murderously horny and none too  
pleased that Julian had stopped. 

Without explanation, Julian hooked a hand  
under Duncan's left leg and neatly flipped him over onto his back. Duncan  
marveled again at Julian's strength as the man repositioned him into the center  
of the bed, pushed his legs up into the air and reentered swiftly. Duncan grit  
his teeth, hands knotting in the bed sheets as new sensations rippled through  
him. Julian restarted his rhythm, nipping at Duncan's nipples on the upstroke.  
He felt Duncan's hands paw through his hair and across his shoulders,  
scrabbling across his back as Duncan arched and bent his body, matching  
Julian's every movement and rubbing his hard cock against Julian's chest.

Julian watched Duncan's face, entranced at the undisguised pleasure there, and  
changed his angle. Duncan groaned loudly and grasped Julian tightly, wanting  
nothing more than to feel that sensation over and over again. Julian memorized  
the position and poked Duncan repeatedly in the prostate, grinning as Duncan  
willingly lost his mind. The mortal thrashed his head back and forth, chanting  
brokenly, as Julian snuck a hand down to grasp the man's aching cock. Two  
slippery tugs and Duncan was arching off the bed, Julian's weight the only  
thing grounding him. Before the last shudders were spent, Julian broke his  
rhythm and slammed into him, fucking him with abandon. He came in a rush when  
he heard Duncan scream "YES!" in a voice gone gravely with lust. Julian poured  
himself into Duncan's sweet body, bringing tears to his eyes, until he  
collapsed in a heap on the panting mortal.

Duncan smoothed his back, whispering sweet nothings and pushing Julian's hair  
away from his sweaty face. Julian would have gladly stayed like this forever,  
but he knew Duncan was going to need to breathe sometime, and he was slipping  
out. He removed himself as gently as he could and rolled onto his side,  
gathering Duncan up into his arms. Duncan was wearing a most satisfied grin,  
proof positive he had enjoyed himself, and Julian kissed his pliant lips.  
Julian patted down Duncan's hair, gone wild during their lovemaking, and  
caressed the man's cheek. To his delight, Duncan only snuggled closer, wrapping  
arms around him and sighing contentedly. Julian bit his lip and grinned,  
totally besotted as he whispered to his new lover.

"You're so amazing..." Duncan smiled lazily at him, content to be petted and  
kissed. It was all Julian could do to keep from purring himself, unreasonably  
pleased that Duncan turned out to be a cuddler. He loved this aspect of  
mortals, the dreamy and soft way they felt after sex, totally boneless and  
trusting. He glanced up at the moon, for once not wishing life was any  
different than it was right now, and curled himself protectively around the  
sleeping Duncan as he closed his own eyes.

By the weak light at the window, Julian estimated it was close to dawn. He  
normally was never up at this hour, but several things were alerting his senses  
enough to make it hard to sleep. Besides the light, there was an errant wisp of  
hair that was insisting on exploring his cheek, a tickling caress that he  
couldn't take anymore. He shifted his arm to lay a hand over the head that was  
lodged under his chin to effectively trap any more intrepid locks. There was a  
pleasant, hefty weight slung across his chest and a band of warmth curled under  
his own ribs which could only have been Duncan's arm. Merely thinking the  
mortal's name caused a stupid grin to sneak out and Julian was thankful that  
the human could not see his face. He was definitely lying on a wet spot, and  
the way his thighs clung to the other man reminded him of why he felt so sated.  
The memories of the previous night might have been a fond dream, but Duncan's  
warmth and masculine scent fixed their lovemaking firmly in reality, setting  
off feelings of contentment in the Kindred's heart.

Duncan must have sensed he was awake. The man snuffled slightly, then raised  
his head to peer bleary-eyed at Julian. Julian smiled at him, not sure how much  
the other man could actually see in the dim light, but Duncan gave him a  
lopsided grin in return before sleepily smashing his face back down onto  
Julian's chest. It made Julian chuckle, bouncing Duncan's head enough to make  
him roll over onto his back. Julian turned and propped himself up onto an  
elbow, settling in for some serious Duncan watching. The man yawned and  
scrubbed his hands over his face, blinking towards the window and trying to  
remember how to form words.

"...timezzit?"

Julian glanced at the window. "I'm guessing...4:30 maybe."

Duncan groaned slightly. "I should go for a run."

Julian huffed, playing up the insult. "If you have enough energy to go running  
after last night, then my work here is not finished." He grabbed the now  
snickering Duncan and dragged him closer, reveling in the vibrations coursing  
through the big body. He spooned against his backside, amazed anew at how their  
bodies fit together and how much he enjoyed the soft, blazing heat of Duncan's  
skin. The mortal caught his hand and threaded his fingers with Julian's, an  
overwhelming sense of tenderness washing over the Kindred. He stilled his  
breath and gently kissed the back of Duncan's exposed neck, hearing a soft sigh  
from his relaxing partner. Julian ran his nose through the dark mass of hair  
until he heard Duncan's breathing take on an even rhythm and he knew Duncan had  
dropped off to sleep again. Mentally shrugging, Julian inched himself  
impossibly closer to his bedmate and allowed himself to drift.

Some time later, Julian felt Duncan's weight shifting the bed. There was more  
light assaulting his eyes, but Julian wasn't quite ready to face it yet. He  
heard Duncan pad into the bathroom and start to shower, so he took the  
opportunity to swipe the other man's pillow and surround himself completely  
with Duncan's scent and leftover heat. He stayed that way until he heard Duncan  
rattling around in the kitchen and the promising aroma of good coffee came  
wafting in. He got up quickly to shower and dress, wanting to spend as much  
time as he could with Duncan before he had to leave.

Duncan, dressed in a green, velvety robe, poured himself a generous glass of  
juice and tested the edge of his pancake. Not quite ready yet. He sighed  
contentedly, feeling the effects of last night and smiling. Thinking about  
Julian warmed Duncan inside, an almost childish joy skittering through his  
stomach. As if summoning the man with his thoughts, he felt Julian behind him,  
moments before a pair of hands covered his eyes and a puff of warm breath  
tickled his ear. "Say my name."

Duncan chuckled, glad Julian's playful nature was still around in the morning  
light. "Uhm...is it Julian?"

Julian snorted and released his eyes, dropping his hands to loop arms around  
Duncan's chest and resting his head on Duncan's broad back. "Correct, although  
according to you last night, my full name is 'OhgodyesJulian!' It's going to  
raise questions with my passport, but I can live with that." 

"Ha, ha. How many do you want?" asked Duncan, waving a spatula at the flat  
golden cakes in the pan. He found he liked the feel of the other man pressed  
against his back, reassurance of the comfortable attitude they shared with each  
other.

"Oh, just one. I'm not a big breakfast person. Besides," Julian checked the  
clock on the wall with a sigh, "I'm due to meet my associate in an hour." He  
hadn't realized it was quite that late, but Duncan's exaggerated pout was going  
to make him even later, if he wasn't mistaken. Turning Duncan slightly, he gave  
him a thorough morning kiss, trying to make up for his having to leave. When he  
met Duncan last night, he had no idea it was going to be this hard abandoning  
the mortal, and Duncan didn't seem too eager to send him on his way. If it was  
up to Julian, he would have gladly spent the next several years standing at the  
stove, tongue wedged firmly in Duncan's warm mouth, listening to him moan as he  
rubbed the man from one end to the other. The only thing he would change would  
be that slightly smoky smell... "Your cakes are burning."

Duncan looked at him with half-lidded, lust-filled eyes. "You've no idea." He  
turned his attention to the pancake, rescuing it before it was a total loss.  
Julian smiled and poured them coffee, snagging fruit from the fridge and making  
himself somewhat at home at the kitchen table. The two men settled down to  
breakfast, chatting about various topics and discovering how similar their  
interests were. Julian fed Duncan some of his pancake while Duncan wound up  
feeding Julian strawberries from his fingers, an obvious sensual exercise which  
caused Julian's libido to tap him on the shoulder and insist he have this man  
again. He could tell by the heat coming off Duncan that this was the point of  
the exercise, and he decided his meeting would just have to wait. He kissed and  
licked Duncan's fingers, creeping slowly off the stool and closer to the other  
man without breaking eye contact. Duncan's breath kept catching in his throat  
and he swallowed with obvious effort. His lower lip began to tremble with need  
just as Julian pounced on it with a devouring kiss.

Slipping inside the robe, Julian ran possessive hands over Duncan's chest,  
curving around his ribcage and tickling over-heated nipples. Duncan moaned,  
shifting slightly on the stool as Julian's hands slid down to his hips, the  
robe falling open and displaying Duncan openly. From the nest of dark curls,  
his cock waved at Julian, begging to be petted. While Julian feasted on syrup  
flavored lips, he stroked the underside of Duncan's cock, running his palm up  
the stiffening shaft and coating his fingers in the fluid now leaking  
profusely. Duncan moaned shamelessly, grasping at Julian's shoulders with  
shaking hands. Julian grinned, breaking the kiss, and whispered to Duncan.

"You're really ready here, aren't you?" He sucked noisily on Duncan's lower  
lip, not really expecting an answer. Dropping to his knees on the floor, he  
found he could easily reach Duncan's cock while he was seated on the stool. He  
ran his hands over Duncan's thighs while Duncan wrapped gentle hands around his  
head and massaged the back of his neck. Julian kissed the inside of a thigh,  
amused as it twitched with excitement and made Duncan's cock jump. Julian  
swiped a tongue at the sensitive head, which made Duncan hiss loudly as his  
whole body froze in place. Julian took Duncan in hand, knowing this was not  
going to last long. Passing his tongue over the shaft with some well placed  
licks had Duncan whimpering and kneading his head impatiently. Julian parted  
his lips and engulfed Duncan half way down, his eyes drifting shut as he  
swallowed.

It was all Duncan could do to stay seated, he wanted so much to push into that  
slick, wet heat of Julian's mouth, but he was already sitting on the edge of  
the stool. He had enough mind left to figure out that if he did any thrusting,  
it would quickly unseat him and he'd fall on the floor, which might dislodge  
that glorious tongue wrapped around his cock, and that he couldn't have!  
Effectively trapped, he could only moan as Julian's head bobbed in his lap,  
trying not to tangle his fingers in Julian's hair. He also wanted to throw his  
head back and close his eyes, but the sight of Julian's head moving between his  
legs was too erotic to pass up. Julian grasped him gently behind his knees,  
compressing his throat and sending Duncan's higher functions spinning into  
infinity. He did throw his head back then, arching his neck and groaning with  
gusto. He felt Julian's hands shake on his thighs as he came back to his  
senses, feeling the other man lapping him clean and sounding very pleased with  
himself.

Julian stood slowly and gathered Duncan's lips for another searing kiss,  
tasting of strawberries and semen. Duncan's hands began to wander as the kiss  
deepened, cupping Julian's enflamed cock through his slacks. Julian gripped the  
counter top savagely as Duncan undid his belt and zipper, squirreling a hand in  
to release him from the unforgiving material. Giving Duncan a blow job had  
nearly driven Julian out of his mind with need, but he had decided he would  
only let Duncan touch him and bring him to release. 

His exercise in self control now had him rock hard and the sensations of  
Duncan pawing him were breaking his limits. Duncan curled his fist around  
Julian and had just begun to stroke firmly when Julian could stand no more. He  
broke the kiss abruptly and hugged Duncan close to him as he came in shuddering  
spurts, moaning his satisfaction. Duncan cradled his cock securely in one hand  
as he stroked Julian's side, kissing anywhere he could touch Julian and  
murmuring sweet nothings. Julian sucked in several breaths and kissed Duncan's  
lips gently, wanting suddenly to give the man everything in the world. After a  
few moments he ducked his head and stared into Duncan's lap, which was covered  
in semen. "I got you all messy again."

Duncan snorted. "Trust me, it was more fun than a food fight." He rubbed his  
face against Julian's chest while the other man petted his long hair. He really  
liked Julian and a big part of his heart wanted to know what it would feel like  
to have Julian here a lot. He could tell exactly when Julian spotted the clock  
over his shoulder by the slight tightening of his muscles, and Duncan  
reluctantly looked up into Julian's apologetic eyes.

"I'm sorry Duncan," Julian rubbed a thumb over Duncan's bottom lip. "Will you  
be at Joe's tonight?" 

That seemed to cheer the man up somewhat. "Yeah, I'll probably get there  
sometime after nine. You wanna have dinner?"

Julian sighed, watching as Duncan carefully tucked him back into his trousers.  
"I can't, I'm dining with my associate. But I will come to the bar..." He  
caught Duncan's eyes again. "If you're going to be there."

Duncan's cheeks briefly tinted rose, that giddy feeling winding inside him  
again. "Okay, yeah. I need...uhm, I'd like to see you again." He felt very  
goofy, until he saw Julian's face break into the biggest grin.

"Oh, good. Give me something to look forward to." His kiss good-bye sealed the  
deal, and within minutes he was stepping into Duncan's elevator, waving to him  
as he dialed Cash on his cell. Duncan winked at him before he dropped out of  
sight, hearing Julian instruct a "Cash" to bring his "outdoor" clothes.

* * *


	2. Thomas Grendel

Julian grunted slightly, trying hard to keep his distress from being overly  
obvious to the two Kindred with him, but having his pants around his ankles  
compounded the difficulty. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he gripped his  
jeans, wriggled a bit and...finally...got them at least past his knees. Bracing  
himself against the door and lifting his butt, he then managed to get them up  
around his hips, but the car made a sudden lane change to the left and Julian  
whacked his head sharply against the interior panel. Collapsing onto the seat,  
he looked up into the unapologetic and smug eyes of his bodyguard as the young  
Gangrel twisted in his seat to watch Julian's dignity unravel. 

For Cash, it was probably the closest he was going to get to punishing Julian  
for the previous night. His errant Prince had finally called him that morning,  
instructing him to pick him up at a local restaurant, effectively keeping his  
lover's whereabouts a secret. Julian had reeked of mortal, male sex, enough so  
that Cash could probably identify whomever it had been should he ever pass the  
man on the street. Daniel, their driver, had turned widened eyes towards Cash,  
seeking answers, but Cash jerked his head no. There were some things you just  
didn't ask your Prince about. The fact that Julian occasionally slept with  
males was not the problem Cash had, it was Julian's disregard for his own  
safety that drove the young Gangrel to seek sweet revenge for the restless and  
tense night he had spent. To that end, Cash had reeled in his own anger and  
contented himself with making this drive as uncomfortable as possible for  
Julian. 

Since he was very late now, Julian had decided to change into casual clothes  
on the drive to Thomas' lake house, and had to endure Cash's scrutiny as he  
fumbled out of his suit and struggled into a cream colored knit sweater and  
well-worn jeans. The boots were another obstacle as Daniel seemed to hit a pot  
hole every time Julian bent over to get them on his feet and tied. After  
banging his head on the front seat for the fourth time, Julian glared at Cash,  
but the Gangrel merely looked back, his face impassive. He had no idea how he  
was doing it, but Julian had a feeling Cash was somehow telling Daniel exactly  
when to lurch the car to batter their Prince around most effectively. Sighing,  
Julian leaned back in the seat to do up his fly, staring at Cash and  
challenging him to say anything, but Cash only smiled and turned back to face  
the windshield. Considering the hell he had put the young Kindred through, he  
supposed showing Cash some vulnerability was a fair price. It warmed him to  
think he and Cash had the kind of relationship that would allow a Prince to  
show any weakness at all, and not have it effect that relationship. He was very  
lucky to have Cash.

Their journey ended in a steep incline up the narrow, gravel driveway of the  
Gangrel Prince, Thomas Grendel. Not a young man when he had been embraced,  
Thomas was built like a trim bulldog, barrel-chested with thick, strong arms  
and a firm jaw. He was not a showy man, but he carried himself with an attitude  
that oozed authority. He had a temper too, and more than once Julian had seen  
the fierce determination and rage that was at his command. Thomas had lived in  
San Francisco for a long time, but left to go north a few years after Archon's  
death. Julian knew he and Archon had been close friends and it had cut Thomas  
deeply when Cameron had gunned the old Prince down. 

Thomas wore a warm grin as he came out of the huge cabin to greet them,  
throwing his arms around Julian in a friendly embrace which made Julian grin as  
well; Thomas definitely was a more relaxed Prince than Julian would ever be. He  
reminded Julian somewhat of Archon, secure enough in his own power and  
abilities that he could dispense with formality when he chose to. Or perhaps,  
Julian mused as he followed Grendel into the cabin, there were just very few  
Brujah here. Julian donned a blue parka and followed Thomas out to his boat,  
leaving Cash and Daniel and Thomas' bodyguards to patrol the shore. The  
Seacouver Prince enjoyed fishing, and while it wasn't exactly Julian's idea of  
a good time, he appreciated the privacy the big lake could afford them. 

Once the obligatory lines had been baited and cast, Julian leaned back in his  
seat, enjoying the view as water fowl floated on the mirrored surface. The air  
was crisp and wonderfully free of the city smells Julian was used to, the  
complete blankness of it all giving you the feeling you could start all over,  
do anything here. He sipped the coffee Thomas had brought with them and decided  
this was probably what had drawn his old friend to this area. Glancing over at  
Thomas' satisfied expression confirmed his thoughts, and he smiled as the other  
Kindred caught his eye. "Thomas, I'm really sorry about being late..."

Thomas chuckled warmly and waved him off. "Apparently you had good reason."

Julian gave him a surprised look. "That obvious?" Thomas only grinned and  
nodded yes, making Julian blush slightly as he ducked his head. 

"Julian," Thomas began, placing a hand on his arm, a devilish twinkle in his  
eye, "it doesn't matter to me one way or another, as long as you stay out of  
trouble while you are in my territory."

Julian was instantly relaxed by his friends reassurance, and knew by Thomas'  
mention of trouble that all was well between them. Still, he had his part to  
play, and he laughed, gaping at Thomas incredulously. "Unlike the time you lost  
that bet with Eddie!" Thomas grinned back, knowing Julian would never let him  
live that stunt down. "You can't imagine my shock to see you on the news,  
hanging off that bridge. I didn't even know you were in town yet!" The two  
Kindred laughed, reliving old times and renewing their bond of alliance for a  
few hours. Spending time with the other Kindred helped Julian remember his own  
past as well as remind him why peace among the Clans was so precious.

Julian studied Thomas' profile, no small amount of admiration apparent in his  
eyes. "This place is so calm. No wonder you wanted to come up here." 

Thomas snorted, adjusting his line. "It wasn't exactly the Peaceable Kingdom  
when I first got here. The Garou were used to being the top of the food chain,  
and it was their sport to wipe Kindred out of the entire region. Almost managed  
it, too. Most of the other Clans fled to the city, or died defending what space  
they had. The Gangrel's faired a bit better, which was why I chanced it up  
here. Archon knew they would accept a Gangrel Prince over any other Clan."

"Archon encouraged you to come here?"

Thomas looked at Julian, loathe to open deep wounds, but he owed it to his  
friend. "He wasn't going to stay in San Francisco very much longer..."

Julian swallowed, remembering the feeling he had sensed from his Sire towards  
the end of Archon's life, and nodded. "I know. I knew he was leaving soon, but  
I didn't know..."

Thomas wrapped an arm around Julian, thinking how young he looked suddenly,  
and knowing it was an illusion. "You were ready to be on your own, you had been  
Prince for some time, and Archon wanted to secure this area. Having so many  
powerful Garou so close to the city made him nervous and he came up with a plan  
to put a bigger Kindred presence up here. And it would have taken a lot longer,  
if it wasn't for the power plant blowing. Which I had *nothing* to do with, by  
the way."

Julian smiled and nodded, looking at Thomas from the corner of his eye and  
wondering what other plans the elder Kindred had which Julian hadn't been privy  
to. "Well, now you don't have to battle the Garou. Things have fallen into  
place."

Thomas pursed his lips and went back to fiddling with his line again. "It's  
not that simple, of course. While most of the Gangrel here accepted me as their  
Prince, there is some serious discord in the Clan."

"Oh? That's fairly unusual for Gangrel, isn't it?" asked Julian, thinking  
about how close Cash's gang was.

"Not when you have this many. Sometimes the pack splits, but usually the  
smaller splinter group will leave the area and find a new place to settle for a  
while. My problem is Merrick and his gang were born and raised here. He isn't  
ready to go anywhere else just yet."

Julian scowled. "You're from here originally, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but that was decades ago. To Merrick's pack, I'm always going to be the  
'city boy,' come up here to take over their territory with the help of my  
snotty Ventrue from San Francisco." Thomas glanced at Julian and smiled when  
the man's eyebrows flew up. "They just don't have a lot of respect for your  
Clan, don't take it personally. Frankly, I think they'd been fighting with the  
Garou so long, they forgot how to stop."

"What do you plan to do about him?"

Thomas leaned back in his seat, scratching himself lazily across the belly  
like an old, sly wolf, mulling over how to put the lesser pup into his proper  
place. "Oh, I have some ideas. Oscar Merrick shows more teeth than he has the  
guts to use. It'll just take some time for him to either accept his place in my  
territory, or strike out to find a new one." The words were deceptively calm,  
but Julian caught the gleam in Thomas' eye, knowing that, once the Blood Hunt  
in San Francisco had been called, this was the Kindred who had given Cameron  
the killing blow. And he had enjoyed it.

The sun was floating down to the horizon when Julian stepped back onto the  
cabin's elevated porch to take in the view. The Kindred in Thomas' group, being  
mostly Gangrel, accepted Cash and Daniel like brothers and they had enjoyed  
themselves as much as he had. Accepting a glass of wine from his host, he  
acknowledged a restless impatience thrumming through his veins which grew worse  
as night drew closer. He ignored it at first, until someone mentioned Jazz,  
and Julian was instantly reminded of the bar where he had met Duncan. From that  
moment on, he couldn't get the man out of his thoughts, and he recognized his  
impatience as his need to see the mortal again. His mouth watered when he  
pictured Duncan as he had been that morning, naked and flushed, begging to be  
touched, and Julian's body physically ached with wanting to feel Duncan's arms  
around him. Eventually, it had been too much for the Kindred, and he had  
excused himself to get some air outside. A few minutes later, Thomas had joined  
him and the two shared a companionable moment together.

Thomas finally spoke up. "So, I guess you'll be heading back tonight."

Julian nodded. "I've enjoyed it here, Thomas. Thank you."

"Think you'll ever head back this way?" he asked with a knowing grin.

Julian smiled. Thomas always could read him like a book. "I've no doubt I  
will." 

The moon was out by the time Julian, Cash and Daniel made their good-byes and  
headed for the car. As Julian climbed into the back seat, he was immediately  
assaulted by Duncan's scent, which was all over the clothing he had worn  
earlier. As they drove towards the bar where Julian had first met Duncan, he  
found his expectation growing, thoughts of seeing the man again consuming him  
with quiet desperation. If it weren't for the two Kindred in the front seat,  
Julian would have held his shirt, speckled with Duncan's male essence, grasped  
tightly in his arms, trying to hold as much of the man to him that he could.  
The drive seemed to crawl on for hours, but finally the small neon sign was in  
view. Julian all but leaped out of the vehicle, then turned to speak to Cash.

"Cash, I know what you're going to say..." His Gangrel bodyguard tightened his  
mouth in an effort to keep from snapping at his Prince. "I will be here for a  
while, then I will be staying at a friends house until later. I will give you a  
call when I am ready to leave. Understood?"

There was a lot implied in Julian's statement, not the least of which was  
Julian's firm instruction to let him be. Cash didn't like it, and it had been  
duly noted, and now there was nothing more to be said on the subject. Cash  
nodded curtly, then watched as Julian headed into the bar. Once the Prince was  
out of his sight, he heaved a long suffering sigh. Daniel gave him a  
sympathetic look as they drove off to await Julian's summons.

The band was indeed playing when Julian strode into the bar, and he stopped  
just inside the door to listen, and to scan the room. To his great dismay,  
Duncan was noticeably absent. Perhaps the mortal was late? Or worse...he had  
been here already and left. His disappointment was swift, causing a deep  
sadness at the thought of not seeing Duncan. Julian wasn't sure he could find  
the man's apartment from memory, it had been raining hard last night and he  
hadn't really been paying attention as Duncan drove. Julian made his way slowly  
to the bar to order a drink, hoping Duncan would eventually show. 

Halfway through a dismal pint of beer, Julian noticed a door open at the  
opposite end of the room and a tall man walk out. The recognition made his  
Kindred heart jerk in his chest; it was Duncan. An unstoppable grin planted  
itself on Julian's face, and it only grew worse as the mortal approached him  
and their eyes met. 

Duncan had almost missed seeing Julian at the bar, his casual attire changed  
his look considerably, but in a way that had Duncan licking his suddenly dry  
lips. Julian looked a bit pale, but his dark, sharp eyes were accentuated by  
the light color of the sweater he was wearing, and the man was in a pair of  
jeans that hugged his lower half like print on wallpaper. As captivating as  
Julian was in tailored suits, Duncan decided he was equally stunning in simple  
clothes. Which Duncan wanted to get him out of as soon as was legally possible.

Julian shook Duncan's hand as the man came over to greet him, noting the full  
scrutiny the mortal had been giving him and how much it had affected him. The  
handshake lasted as long as was socially acceptable and Duncan rubbed his free  
hand good-naturedly on Julian's shoulder, but both men were too afraid to give  
each other a hug, knowing that pressing their bodies together would be too much  
of a temptation to fling themselves onto the bar and screw like rabbits. 

"Julian! It's so good to see you again."

"Mmmmm, you too. I was beginning to think I had missed you, though." 

"Oh no, I was just in the back. Come on." Duncan tipped his head towards the  
seats and Julian grabbed his drink and followed. Duncan lead them to an out of  
the way table which would allow them a small measure of privacy but where they  
could still enjoy the music. They sat as close to each other as they could,  
although Duncan would have been happier if he could have climbed into Julian's  
lap. Perhaps it was his memories of the night before, but Julian looked  
positively edible right now and it was only Duncan's respect for Joe that was  
keeping him in this seat at all. He wasn't above teasing the hell out of Julian  
in the meantime though, and relaxed his legs far enough until his knee made  
contact with Julian's thigh. Unnoticed by the other people at the bar, Julian  
swung a fiery glance at Duncan, who only smirked back at him. Julian bit his  
lower lip, calculating revenge.

Two songs later, Julian had Duncan wound so tight the man was going to have to  
hold his coat in front of himself just to get out of the bar. The things the  
Kindred managed to communicate with only his tongue and a swizzle stick were  
astounding. To his credit, Duncan had given as good as he got, if the sweat on  
Julian's upper lip was any indication. Things calmed down a little bit when the  
band took a break and Joe came over to chat. The Watcher found Julian was  
really a likeable guy and he was glad to see the man made Duncan happier than  
he had been in quite a while. In fact, he was a bit saddened when he invited  
Julian to come again, and was reminded that this was Julian's last night in  
Seacouver. Duncan tried to hide his own disappointment; he had obviously not  
dwelled on that fact either. Julian smiled sadly and expressed his appreciation  
for Joe's music. Not only was the man good, it was his music which had drawn  
him to the bar, and ultimately Duncan. Joe smiled as he rose from the table.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Julian. Hopefully you can stop in when you  
come again."

"Thank you, Joe. I promise I will." He shook the offered hand as Joe said  
good-bye to Duncan with a nod. As Joe walked off, Julian looked at Duncan,  
sorry to see some of the excitement had bled out of the man. Reaching over, he  
poked him ticklishly in the ribs, catching his attention. "Can we...go to your  
place now? I'd really like to..." Julian curled his tongue seductively down the  
length of the plastic straw. 

Duncan's grin came back. "Yeah, I think we really need to...uh...go do  
that..." Gathering what wits he had left and holding his coat in front of him  
like a shield, Duncan lead Julian out into the gathering drizzle and home.

By unspoken agreement, they didn't do more than hold hands on the drive to  
Duncan's place. Both men knew that they were like twin suns ready to nova, and  
once the pawing began, there would be no stopping. They managed to make it into  
the elevator before Duncan accidentally brushed his arse against Julian's hip  
and was immediately seized, turned and thrown against the wall to submit to a  
kiss, his head bouncing slightly against the metal. Julian gasped, shocked at  
his own impatience and how it lead him to hurt Duncan, but to his astonished  
relief, Duncan only laughed at him and wound his fingers into the belt loops of  
Julian's jeans, amused at the other man's loss of control. 

Julian smiled wide, intrigued by the fact that he didn't have to treat this  
human as if he were made of eggshells. He was a man, and a strong one at that.  
He was so very different from Caitlin, whom Julian had been so careful with.  
Many times when he was dating her, he would shake with the effort of holding  
back, which she had chalked up to nerves on his part. As it was, he was shaking  
now, not with nerves, but with shear need for the hard-bodied man who was  
clutching at him with enough force to leave bruises. Duncan immediately spread  
his legs and pulled Julian in tight against his hard groin, not caring if they  
spent the entire night in the elevator, as long as he could feel Julian's heat  
NOW. 

Julian crushed his body against him then, seizing Duncan's face in both palms  
and diving into those sensuous lips for a kiss. He loved Duncan's lips, both  
full and soft, yet demanding and hard as well. Tongues followed, sweeping over  
each other in a wet duet, pushing and licking over every inch. He could hear  
when Duncan's breathing became labored, feel his heart vibrate in his chest,  
and reluctantly pulled back to allow the mortal some air. Although he gulped  
great breaths, Duncan really didn't seem to want to stop and bother with  
breathing, but it did bring to their attention that they had reach his  
apartment and they could continue this in more comfortable environs.

Grinning like school boys, they piled out of the elevator and began dumping  
belongings on the kitchen table, while clothes and pheromones flew from their  
bodies in a trail to the bedroom. Duncan won the race again and stood  
snickering by the bed as Julian struggled with a determined sock. Finally  
triumphant, Julian launched it at the grinning Duncan before he pressed himself  
full against the other man. 

Duncan fell backwards onto the bed, arms around Julian as the man fell on top  
of him, keeping him in contact with that gorgeous, warm body. He loved the feel  
of Julian on his skin and squirmed shamelessly, rubbing his nipples through  
Julian's chest hair and aligning his cock with his partner's. Julian gasped,  
his eyes momentarily fluttering shut as he felt Duncan's stiff member slither  
next to his own. Opening his eyes again, he looked deeply into Duncan's gaze,  
the strong emotion and excitement he found there nearly stealing his breath  
away. He moaned softly and buried his face in the mortal's soft neck, kissing  
and nuzzling and whispering...

"Are you ready for me?" At the pace they were going, Julian really didn't want  
to stop.

Duncan rolled his hips and spread his legs, his hands grasping Julian's ass  
cheeks possessively. "Yes...have been all night." He arched up to steal a  
quick, hot kiss, then stretched a long arm to the bed stand to snag the waiting  
tube. In the meantime, Julian had focused his attention on Duncan's chest,  
swiping a tongue over first one nipple, then covering the other with his mouth  
and sucking hard while he pinched it's damp twin. Duncan groaned and nearly  
dropped the lube. Julian kissed the quivering skin of Duncan's ribcage,  
grabbing the tube out of Duncan's hand and coating his fingers with the goo.  
Spreading Duncan's cheeks slightly, Julian zeroed in on his opening, and began  
to stroke back and forth over it. He leaned down and sweetly kissed the leaking  
head of Duncan's cock, which lay rigid against the man's belly. Duncan gave a  
low groan, which got deeper in timbre as Julian gently pushed a finger inside.

Julian looked up, wanting to see Duncan's face as he prepared him. Duncan  
stared back, letting his joy and animal need speak for themselves. Sometimes  
his intensity was too much for his lovers and they instinctively backed away.  
Not so Julian; his expression begging Duncan to show him more, not hold back,  
to be fearless in lust and any other emotion he wanted to throw at him. Duncan  
began to appreciate just how strong Julian was, how safe his feelings would be  
with the other man and he moaned with this knowledge, and the fact that Julian  
had slipped another digit inside him. Duncan had one hand wrapped firmly around  
the back of Julian's head, the other roaming over a hard bicep, stroking  
Julian's arm and following the movements as Julian moved in and out of him. A  
few sure strokes, and Julian was adding yet another, his sensitive fingers  
telling him how relaxed Duncan indeed was, how much he trusted him. Some more  
slight stretching and he pulled out completely, planting his hands on either  
side of the other man and watching intently as Duncan nearly bit through his  
lip to keep from whining at the loss.

Meeting the man's lips above him to indulge in a shivering kiss, Duncan's  
hands slid restlessly over Julian's arms and chest, trying to communicate how  
much he wanted to be taken. Julian thought he had never seen anything as  
beautiful as Duncan was right now, all wild hair and eyes, sweat beading over  
silken skin, and potent desire whipped through him with alarming strength. He  
looked down and watched as Duncan, with quaking hands, applied the lubricant to  
his aching cock. He grunted with the effort not to come, imagining how Duncan  
would howl like a mad thing if he were deprived of the hard fucking they had  
their hearts set on. Sufficiently slicked, Julian surged over Duncan, snagging  
a pillow and ramming it under the man's hips. Duncan's breathed staccato, rapid  
gasps in time with his hammering heart, nearly out of his mind with  
anticipation.

"Please...now..."

More than the words, the movement of Duncan's wet lips and restless hands  
urged Julian to hurriedly push the head of his cock into Duncan. Duncan hissed  
slightly, but his writhing told Julian not to stop. Leaning his forehead on  
Duncan's torso and bending the man nearly in half, Julian grabbed his hips and  
pulled him onto his cock. He heard a somewhat high-pitched moan, but Duncan's  
heated stroking along his body was encouraging, not trying to push him away.  
Julian pushed himself in to the hilt, lifting his head in time to see Duncan  
arch his neck as the sensations of being mounted swept through him. Blood tears  
sprang to Julian's eyes, but he quickly blinked them away, concentrating on the  
intense tight heat all along his cock as he rested inside Duncan.

Quicker than Julian expected, Duncan was panting words at him. They were  
nearly incoherent, but he did catch phrases about Duncan wanting him to move,  
to fuck him hard and not to stop. Julian pulled back, irrationally reluctant to  
leave Duncan's warm body, but he surged in again, which made Duncan moan.  
Julian grinned wolfishly, his strokes becoming more regular and insistent. This  
seemed to be exactly what Duncan had ordered, and the mortal pushed himself up  
to meet Julian, eager and open.

Surrounded by the heat, scents and sounds of his responsive lover, Julian  
allowed his libido free reign, pounding into the mortal with more force than he  
normally allowed himself. Duncan only seemed to want more. Something was  
missing though, and it nagged at Julian's over-heated mind until he figured it  
out. Duncan wasn't making that noise Julian had become fond of the first time  
they had made love, and he so wanted to hear that one. Grasping the mortal  
around the waist and hips, he rose up onto his knees, dragging Duncan into his  
lap. The mortal wrapped his arms around Julian's neck, whimpering in low tones  
as he felt gravity impale him further. The new angle hit Duncan's sweet spot  
right on cue, and he threw his head back in ecstasy, his own hard cock jamming  
into Julian's chest. Without warning Julian lifted him up and slammed him back  
down again, causing the most intense sensations deep inside Duncan.

Duncan leaned down, wanting very much to kiss Julian while the man was inside  
him, but their movements banged his lip against Julian's sharp teeth, and his  
torn flesh began to bleed. Duncan didn't notice it at all, but Julian was  
instantly alerted to the smell of blood and sealed his own lips around the  
wound, eager to heal his lover. The trickle of blood Julian tasted was sweeter  
than any he had ever known, sending a savage pulse through him. By instinct,  
Julian's mouth found Duncan's neck, licking and nuzzling as the human bounced  
on his lap. Duncan nipped him on the shoulder, exciting Julian even more and  
making him growl deep in his throat. The sound sent shivers down Duncan's spine  
and he stilled his movements, pulling back to look deep into Julian's eyes,  
trying to tell him what he needed.

"Oh...yes..."

Like a key, Duncan's words freed a wild beast inside Julian, who growled  
again-because apparently his mate liked that-and he threw Duncan back down onto  
the bed, pistoning into him and mouthing the soft tissue of his throat. His  
cock throbbed in time with the heartbeat he could feel under the mortal's skin,  
the vibrations taunting him, begging to be allowed to run free. A tiny part of  
Julian's mind whispered to him that sex was good, but sex with a little blood  
was mind-blowing. Blood and the shedding of it created all sorts of feelings in  
a Kindred, and Julian wanted that with Duncan. He sucked hard on the skin  
directly over the pulsing vein, piercing the willing flesh. Duncan yipped  
slightly, but only held onto him tighter as he began to come, spraying their  
stomachs as his cock pulsed. Julian moaned, feeling Duncan's wet release and  
sucked eagerly at the blood which spurted into his mouth like a counterpart to  
Duncan's orgasm.

The first tang of blood that rippled past his lips was a rush, warm and slick  
and beautiful. He sucked eagerly, wanting to feel that delicious warmth glide  
over him as his cock slipped repeatedly into his lover. Duncan was like nothing  
he had ever tasted before, pure and sweet but with an almost electric energy  
that sparkled and fizzed on his tongue. The blood surged through Julian's  
Kindred body, igniting his nerves and infusing him with life. Julian drank,  
encouraged by his lovers crooning, stiffening as he came, his scream of  
completion lost in the throat under his lips. Duncan held him gently as Julian  
rocked them back and forth, lost in the brilliance of the blood he had been  
offered. He couldn't get enough of Duncan it seemed, wanting to stay this way,  
nursing at Duncan's throat like a babe at the breast. At some point he began to  
moan softly, lapping again and again at the slowing blood as Duncan relaxed.  
Finally, Julian lapped the wound closed, dragging himself with great effort  
away from this source of delight. Duncan had stopped holding him at some point,  
the human no doubt having gone boneless after such intense sex. Julian grinned  
at his throat, kissing him gently and whispering sweet words. 

He kissed his way up to Duncan's face, finally opening his eyes to look into  
his lover's soul. Disturbingly, Duncan's eyes were half open, staring at  
nothing. "Duncan?" Julian worried that Duncan had passed out from the exertion,  
and gently rubbed the man's cheek. Running his hands roughly over Duncan's  
chest to wake him, he was alarmed at the stillness. Blinking rapidly, he  
quickly turned on the bedside lamp, noting how sallow Duncan's honey-colored  
skin was. "No..." Julian ran hands over Duncan's body, checking pulse points.  
"No!..." Duncan wasn't breathing, and Julian's frantic calling and shaking was  
doing nothing. "NO! No, no, no...please, no..." But Julian knew death when he  
saw it, and with a sob of shock, cradled Duncan to him. The skin was cool, the  
shapely arms limp as they hung from his shoulders, the eyes still sightless.  
There was no point in CPR or any other revival techniques as there was no blood  
to circulate. A great pain was squeezing Julian from the inside, and he  
recognized it as guilt.

"Oh....what have I done? My sweet, sweet Duncan.." Blood tears ran hot down  
Julian's face as he held Duncan's cheek to his own, knowing he would never  
again feel those soft lips trembling against him. A tremendous tearing feeling  
was happening inside him as the extent of his loss was laid out before him.  
While this had been Julian's last night in Seacouver, he had every intention of  
bringing Duncan to visit his city time and again. He had fallen in love with  
another mortal, something he had sworn he wouldn't do again so quickly, only  
this time, it was by his own hand the mortal had died. Julian hugged the body  
to his chest, threw back his head and let loose an inhuman howl. Creatures  
within hearing distance shuddered, recognizing the sound of another being in  
extreme pain. 

"I'm so sorry my love...I'm so sorry..." Great sobs bubbled up to cascade in  
rivulets of gore down Julian's cheeks. He couldn't believe he had lost control  
like that, something he had never done before. He couldn't even Embrace Duncan  
as the mortal was beyond the ability to drink from Julian. He gently laid  
Duncan back onto the bed, hanging his head over the man as his blood tears  
dripped into the cold remains of their lovemaking on Duncan's chest. Julian  
opened his eyes and was reminded of the poem from Namaith's book, blood raining  
down on the mountains and valleys of Duncan's torso in Julian's torrential  
grief. 

With inhuman effort, Julian pulled himself together, gathering his feelings   
and storing them in a dark part of his cold heart to be endured later. He   
scrubbed the sheet over his blood-stained face, shaking with trapped   
emotion. With lips that wouldn't stay still, he looked at Duncan's now   
vulnerable body. The streaks of blood on that pure skin seemed suddenly very   
wrong, and Julian set about licking it clean, a small part of his mind   
knowing this was the last gift the wolf part of him could give his mate.

It was as mindless as it was comforting, Julian never even hearing his own   
rhythmic whine as he worked to restore Duncan's beauty. He had licked   
Duncan clean, but he continued lapping the smooth skin, unable to leave   
Duncan yet. He licked along the sturdy collarbone, dipping into the hollow   
at the base of his throat, moving up to rasp his tongue over unresponsive   
nipples. He planted tiny kisses on the chest over and over and over,   
desperately reaching for his self control, until he felt the skin flutter   
and jump. The movement nudged Julian's mind back to awareness and he reared   
back. Before he had time to dismiss the movement as random firing of nerves,   
Duncan arched up suddenly, drawing in a great gasp, his eyes wild and   
confused. His hands gripped Julian's shoulders strongly, and Julian, eyes   
wide as plates and mind slack with shock, wrapped his arms around the man   
and pulled him up into an embrace. Duncan coughed a bit and Julian stroked   
his back soothingly, gently rocking him like a child. He pulled his head   
back to look into Duncan's eyes, to reassure himself this was truly   
happening, and Duncan rewarded him with a weak smile.

Julian's smile was like a frightened mouse, peeking out one moment only to   
skitter away the next. He gently stroked Duncan's cheek as he stared at him.   
"Duncan? Are...are you okay?"

Duncan cleared his throat and hugged Julian, his own mind whirling. "Yeah,   
yeah. I'm okay. It's alright. Oh, you're shaking..."

Julian embraced him fiercely, his breath leaving him in a rush. "God   
Duncan...you were...I thought you were...dead." He buried his face in the   
mortals neck again, finding his very alive scent and feeling that wonderful   
heartbeat under his lips, trying to decide when he had lost his mind.

Duncan comforted Julian as best he could and tried to piece events together.   
He remembered making love, staring at his own ankles as Julian nuzzled at   
his neck. He also remembered Julian nipping him as he slammed into him, his   
body pushing at him with that surprising strength Julian had. In the throes   
of passion, Julian must have moved against him at an awkward angle and   
snapped his neck, killing him instantly. He hugged Julian tighter, trying to   
imagine what it must have been like for the poor man, trying desperately to   
rouse him and getting no response. Duncan had no idea how long he had been   
out, but it had spooked Julian well enough. He rested his forehead against   
the trembling man's and gently touched his chin, bringing his head up to   
look him in the eye.

"It's okay, I just passed out. You wore me out, you know." Duncan smirked,   
hoping Julian would accept this explanation. Julian nodded dully, and Duncan   
lay back down with Julian on top of him. He petted Julian's hair, rubbing   
his shoulder as the other man lay on his chest, cheek pressed against his   
heart. Duncan swallowed. Julian was not an idiot, and Duncan wondered if he   
was going to press with questions. As much as Duncan wanted his Immortality   
to be kept secret, he was toying with the idea of telling Julian, if the man   
demanded truthful answers. Right now, Julian was still shaken by the   
experience, but he was leaving soon, and the mortal would have time to think   
about all this while he drove home.

Duncan was surprised at how much the thought of Julian's leaving began to   
bother him. He thought about waking up alone tomorrow morning, something he   
had done every day for quite a while now. Yet, waking up to Julian's warm   
body molded to his had been an unexpected delight, soft kisses at his temple   
to gently rouse him, making him smile. He hugged Julian a bit tighter and   
swallowed with effort. As much as he didn't want to know, Duncan always   
believed in facing things head on.

"You have to leave soon, don't you?"

Julian pressed his arms as tight as he dared into Duncan. "Yeah, I do." He   
lifted his head and gave Duncan a measuring gaze. "But I'm gonna stay a   
while though, to make sure you're all right."

Duncan had meant to protest, insist that he was fine, but it occurred to him   
that maybe Julian would feel more at ease if he knew Duncan was not going to   
drop off again. He nodded at Julian, which brought an abrupt smile to the   
man's face, causing a warm feeling to wend through the Immortal. He found he   
liked making Julian happy, and it would allow the man an excuse to stay in   
his arms a bit longer, prolong the inevitable.

Julian settled back down onto Duncan's broad chest, trying to command his   
body to be still. He was worried about Duncan, he still did not know what   
exactly had happened, and the blood coursing through him was now galloping   
in his veins in a blind stampede. It coursed and swerved like a live thing,   
rushing so fast he was sure the mortal would hear it thundering. It made him   
feel centered and free simultaneously, whispering that it could fly, give   
him strength and clarity like he had never known. No blood he had ever taken   
had been this potent, and as Sasha would say...it was seriously freaking him   
out.

He lay curled around Duncan for quite some time, sifting through what he   
knew and what he had seen, hoping that analyzing the whole experience would   
quiet his mind. Duncan swept warm hands over his body in soothing, circular   
motions, occasionally dropping kisses to the top of his head. If it weren't   
for the fact that Duncan had been a bloodless corpse not twenty minutes ago,   
Julian would have said this was a very romantic ending to their night   
together. The moonlight had shifted on the bed and he realized he really   
needed to get going. His heart squeezed at that thought, and he moaned   
softly. Duncan hugged him, aware that as much as Julian appeared calmer on   
the outside, he could still feel the man's heart beating like a bird's wing   
against his torso.

Finally, Julian tore himself from Duncan's embrace, kissing his way down the   
sleek body until he rose at last from the bed. He quietly found his clothes   
and shrugged into them, then returned swiftly to the bed as if pulled by   
gravity. Duncan was in the process of rising to see him out, trying to hide   
a miserable look on his face. Julian placed gentle hands on his chest to   
halt him.

"No, no...stay there." Julian sat down, stroking the muscular shoulder.   
Duncan looked at him oddly, expression caught between confusion and fear,   
wondering if Julian was so unnerved by what happened that he wanted to get   
away as fast and as cleanly as possible. Julian nuzzled Duncan's cheek,   
reassuring him with his body. "I just...I want to remember you, here. Not   
standing by the door, shivering in your bathrobe, waving good-bye." He   
looked at Duncan with all the hunger and heat he still felt, letting the man   
see how much he still wanted him. "I want to remember you in the bed I was   
in, all warm and snug."

"And sticky..."

This brought a huge grin to Julian's face and he laughed softly, heating   
some of the cold that was beginning to build inside Duncan. That was how   
Duncan wanted to remember Julian, deep voice flowing over him as he stared   
at Duncan with those sexy wolf-eyes of his. Impulsively he threw his long   
arms around Julian, who responded passionately, searching Duncan's mouth for   
a kiss. The brush of those lips against his own shredded Duncan's control,   
making him whine with his need for Julian to stay. Duncan almost shook with   
the knowledge that he wasn't going to feel that beloved tongue everyday.   
Apparently Julian felt it too, laughing nervously at himself.

"I don't want to go."

Duncan nodded in complete agreement. "I don't want you to." Julian seemed   
pleasantly surprised.

"Really?"

Duncan nodded again. "I wish you lived closer..."

A little sparkle lit Julian's eyes. "I don't live *that* far away."

Duncan's lips curled into a smile. What Duncan had really been fishing for   
was reassurance. He had been very unsure if Julian wanted to take their   
joining into a prolonged affair, but Julian seemed intent to put aside his   
fear as he ran his fingers through Duncan's hair, stimulating his scalp,   
making Duncan purr.

"I can't come up here too often, my...business requires immediate attention   
at times. But I have a really huge house. You can come down to visit,   
anytime you'd like!" Julian bit his lower lip, his eyes bright and hopeful   
as he stared at Duncan.

Duncan grinned, irrationally happy at the suggestion. "Yeah, okay. I don't   
know when but...um, leave your number?" Julian swiftly dug a card out of his   
wallet and handed it to Duncan. While he acknowledged the fact that he and   
Duncan were going through the usual post-fuck motions, the fluttery feeling   
in his stomach told him Duncan actually *would* call him, that he wasn't   
just saying the words because it was in the script. Duncan took the card,   
holding it firmly as he kissed it, his eyes never leaving Julian's. With   
that, Julian rose from the bed, brushing his lips against Duncan's one more   
time. He had to get to the door, or he was never leaving this room.

He paused only once as he left the bedroom, memorizing Duncan as he had said   
he wished to. Duncan's golden skin was nearly luminescent, silky sheeting   
draped casually around his hips, warm smile on his face. "Good-bye, Duncan."

"I'll call you. Have a safe trip, Julian."

"Thanks." Julian sighed as he stepped into the elevator and whipped out his   
cell phone, giving Cash directions to Duncan's place in order to pick him   
up. He stepped out into the chilly, damp air, breathing deep to clear his   
head as he waited for the car. It was only Duncan's promise to call him that   
allowed him to feel as good as he did. That, and the blood was still carving   
paths of life through his entire body, forcing him to almost tremble with   
the power of it. It disturbed him, and Julian's instincts were urging him to   
get back to his city quickly. He sighed, equal parts relief and regret when   
Cash pulled up, popping open the door of the car. Julian settled himself   
inside with a nod to Cash, who sighed his own relief at having Julian back   
in his care. The large car moved off into the night, determined to make San   
Francisco before daybreak.

Only two pairs of eyes blinked in the shadows, narrowing as they watched the   
car drive away.

The car pulled up to the steps of the great house and Julian Luna stepped out,  
the Prince once again on home soil. Cash and Daniel unloaded bags, then took  
off, eager to see how their fellow Gangrels were. Lillie came down the stone  
steps and greeted Julian with open arms and warm smiles, reassuring him all had  
gone well while he had been away. Her eyes raked over his body appreciatively;  
she rarely got to see him dress down, and he looked scrumptious in faded jeans.  
Blinking, she recognized the scent of male sex, and it startled her for a  
second, but she did not allow her expression to change. Julian didn't seem to  
even notice as he kissed her sweetly, then asked where Daedalus was. 

"In the catacombs. I told him to come see you, but..."

"That's all right. I need to speak with him, but I want to check on things  
first." 

Lillie sensed Julian's unease and a ribbon of concern wound through her. "Did  
everything go well in Seacouver?"

Julian was definitely preoccupied. "Oh, yes. Thomas will do well." He gave her  
a dismissive smile. Eyebrows on the rise, Lillie smiled back, making plans to  
worm it out of him later. She followed Julian into the main house, staying with  
him as he settled at the huge table, going through notes and catching up on  
affairs. 

There were a few Sasha escapades, but he chalked it up to the fact that she  
had most likely just been bored with Cash out of town. Not that Cash and Sasha  
had been getting along all that well these past few years. His bodyguard had  
grown tired of his niece's attitude towards her former lover and Julian was  
beginning to doubt they would ever get back together. Nothing to worry about  
just yet, but perhaps he should speak to Cash soon. Otherwise, his city had  
been mostly quiet in his absence, which he was grateful for. He didn't want to  
deal with a major crisis while his mind was still puzzling over Duncan. Why had  
he lost control like that, and why was Duncan's blood still tingling along  
every nerve he owned? Why did Duncan come back to life afterwards? And most of  
all, why did he miss the mortal so? He admitted it finally, it wasn't the  
fishing in Seacouver he was pining for. It was charming brown eyes and full wet  
lips, strong muscled arms and legs wrapping around him as he speared a panting  
Duncan with his hard cock...

"You left the lights on."

Julian's mind flew back to the present and replayed what Lillie had just said.  
It did nothing to help him understand what she was talking about, however, and  
he scowled slightly. "I'm sorry...what?"

Lillie laughed softly. "You." She ran fingers through the hair at his temple.  
"The lights were on, but there was nobody home. You were a million miles away."

Julian chuckled, relieved. "Not quite that far. I was back in Seacouver."

"You liked it there?"

"It was...different. Quiet. You have more time to think, it seems." Unlike  
now, he thought, somewhat annoyed that he was again under scrutiny.

Lillie pressed her lips together. Julian had done more than think, if the  
sex-smell coming off of him was any indication. "You do some male bonding while  
you were up there?"

Julian blinked, confused all over again. "M-male bonding?"

Lillie smiled enigmatically. She loved men, they were so clueless and she  
could read them so easily. "With Thomas." She brightened her smile for him.  
"You know, all the stuff you guys do when you get out in the woods." 

Julian's mouth opened and then closed as, unbidden, images of Duncan traipsing  
naked through a redwood forest sprang into his mind. He blinked to clear it and  
looked at Lillie. "We fished."

Lillie wrinkled he pert nose. "Fished. Sounds...lovely."

Julian smirked, relaxing a little for the first time since he had returned  
home. "It's not."

"Mmm, I suspect so." Lillie liked to maintain her image as the cultured woman  
who would never lay hands on a worm. She maneuvered herself onto the table and  
tried to be subtly seductive. “You wanna inspect the bedroom for piles of  
pantyhose?" Her smile promised warm hours in the bed, erotic exchanges of blood  
and hot, Kindred sex. Julian couldn't help but look at her, then shook his  
head.

"I'm sorry Lillie. I really need to talk to Daedalus and I'm worn out from the  
trip."

Her eyebrow arched, but she recognized a wall when she saw one, and hopped off  
the table. "Fishing must be more strenuous than I thought. Well, good-night,  
Julian." She kissed his forehead and sashayed out of the room. She knew that  
normally she would be quite upset with him and plot sweet revenge, but she also  
knew the value of confounding her fellow Kindred. Julian would spend several  
days trying to divine what her motive was and second guess her until his mind  
snapped, at which point she would find out what was going on, one way or  
another. She liked games she was good at, and she really had been bored while  
Julian had been away. 

The Prince watched her retreat, noting how her acquiescence made the hairs on  
his neck stand up. He was going to have to watch himself carefully for the next  
few days, Lillie was on the hunt. He wasn't sure how she would take the news of  
his affair with Duncan, being as he had been sharing his bed with her for a  
while now, and she tended to get possessive. But she'd tried coming between  
himself and Caitlin, and it had ended badly. He hoped she knew the same rule  
would apply to a man. Finishing up his paperwork, he quickly showered and  
changed into black sweats, reminding him of what Duncan had worn on their first  
night together. He finally gave in to the urge to see Daedalus which had  
gripped him since his return, and he slipped quietly below his house.

Julian entered the candle-lit lair, pausing only to scrutinize a new canvas  
on the wall. "Daedalus?" A slight disturbance in the air behind him was his  
only clue that the other Kindred was even in the same room. 

"Do you ask for Daedalus the Primogen, or Daedalus the friend?" Julian turned  
to face him, letting some of his own turmoil show on his face. Daedalus had no  
need to greet Julian upon his return; he knew Lilly would report to him  
effectively enough. But as Daedalus had suspected, Julian was seeking more than  
conformation of the condition of his city.

"Both, I think." Julian smiled shakily, which unnerved Daedalus, and he  
offered Julian a seat. He poured them both a generous glass of wine, which  
Julian sipped gratefully. Daedalus settled himself opposite his Prince and  
waited. Julian shifted in his seat, wondering how to begin to ask what he  
needed to. 

Daedalus took some pity on him and began the conversation. "Did you discover  
all you needed to know in Seacouver?" 

Julian almost laughed. "Yes, and more than I bargained for. I....met a man."  
Julian scooted to the edge of the seat, elbows propped on knees, and stared  
into his wine glass. He was momentarily unwilling to meet Daedalus' eyes. "He  
is an honorable human, a dealer in antiquities. He has many fascinating items,  
including one of the books of Namaith." Julian glanced at Daedalus, knowing  
this would be the one item to interest him the most. As expected, a tiny light  
blazed briefly in the Nosferatu's eyes, but he merely nodded. He knew that  
Julian was delaying. "I became....intimate with him." Julian's attention  
returned to his wine.

Daedalus considered the info he had gathered from Julian's brief explanation,  
wondering why Julian seemed so troubled. Obviously the man stilled lived, which  
may indicate the Masquerade was at risk. "Does he know of us?"

Julian looked aghast. "No. No. Nothing like that." 

Daedalus speared him with a look, hoping that with his unflinching gaze he  
could put his Prince more at ease about his affair. "Julian, I would hope that  
you do not suffer from a misplaced sense of human morality. You are Kindred,  
Ventrue clan. Humans, male and female alike, will be sexually attracted to  
you." At the mention of sex, Julian rose quickly, pacing slightly in the small  
area. Looking down at his friend, he realized a Nosferatu would have every  
right to be jealous of the more beautiful Kindred clans, but Julian sensed only  
Daedalus' wish for him to be open and frank with him. Even so, it was rather  
weird to be discussing his sex life with his friend.

"It's not that." Julian sighed and began a thorough inspection of the ceiling.  
"I...lost control." Daedalus waited patiently, no longer sure where this was  
headed and beginning to burn with curiosity. "In a moment of  
passion...I...drained him." 

Daedalus scowled. Since Julian spoke of this man in the present tense, he was  
certainly still alive. "You embraced him?" 

Julian turned, facing him. "No. Although, at the time, I would have given  
anything to bring him back." Since he was the Prince, it would be his right to  
embrace anyone he wished, but he would have had to have Duncan's co-operation.

Daedalus shook his head. "Then, I do not understand." 

Julian returned to the seat opposite his friend. "Neither do I, that's why I  
need your help. It was...I had just...I started to bite him. I couldn't stop  
myself. His blood was...wonderful. The most intense essence I have ever tasted.  
It was like pure life itself." This news caused Daedalus to arch an eyebrow at  
him. Julian had drunk many times from Archon, and it was said the ancient  
Kindred's blood was so potent, you could survive for days on one drink alone.  
"I felt so connected. With everything. It pulses through me still, like nothing  
I've ever felt before." Julian's eyes burned with the need to explain his  
experience to Daedalus, but his almost joyful mood turned somber. "Once I  
started, I couldn't stop. I drank till he lay dead in my arms." Daedalus noted  
the slight shake in Julian's voice and knew this human meant a great deal more  
to his Prince than he was saying. "He began to cool. He was so pale and his  
heart was still. No one knew I was there, so I stayed, holding him. But then,  
some time later, he opened his eyes and started breathing, gasping and  
thrashing, coming back to life!"

At this, Daedalus leaned forward in his seat. "He reanimated?"

"He's alive Daedalus. One moment he was dead, the next he was breathing and  
moving. He was a bit disoriented at first, but then he was talking to me and  
apologizing for falling asleep. It was the strangest thing. I had hoped you had  
some idea about this."

Daedalus face had become even paler upon hearing this, and he rose to paw  
through a musty bookshelf. "You are sure he had not taken any drugs? Some  
plants have the ability to slow the heartbeat and feign death."

Julian watched as his friend rummaged, relaxed now that his confession was  
over. "Yes, but I had drained him completely. There is no way he could have  
replaced all that blood without feeding from me."

Daedalus had finally found a dusty volume shoved in the back of the shelf and  
quickly took it to a well lit table, the Prince following him. Opening the  
book, he gently separated pages gone delicate with age. Julian had never seen  
this book before, and he marveled at the ancient text and drawings. Some of  
them were done in blood. "What book is this, Daedalus?"

The other Kindred hesitated. "A book of Malkavian myths. My Clan was the only  
one interested in preserving this sort of nonsense. Most Kindred view this as  
the ramblings of the insane, at best." He continued to turn pages, obviously  
looking for something. "I found it long ago and only remember bits and pieces."  
He finally found a page written in a dead language, complete with a  
blood-sketch of a pale, thin man with haunting eyes and wild hair. One drawing  
was a close up, and despite the yellowed paper, his beauty could still be seen.  
The other sketch was this man in a barred cage, suspended in the air, blood  
oozing down from the floor of the cage. It made Julian shiver to think of  
Duncan like this.

Daedalus translated the text for Julian. "The Undying. These are the unending  
fountains of blood, the ones who cannot end. Close your mind to their suffering  
and you will have blood everlasting. The hunt should be taken with care.  
Without their heads, they cannot live." Daedalus ran a finger over the  
long-forgotten text. While the world changed and distracted the other Kindred  
with its shiny toys and new ways, the Nosferatu were not above believing  
fantastical stories and legends. After all, the Kindred themselves were a myth  
modern day humans found impossible to believe.

Julian, true to his relatively young age, gave Daedalus a stunned look. "You  
don't really think..." 

"What I think and what is the truth sometimes share the same table, but not  
always. I only provide you with a possibility. But I will warn you-if this is  
the truth about your lover, he is in more danger than you can imagine. All the  
Kindred need do is capture him, and they will be able to drink from him  
forever. The Undying will regenerate time and time again, and it is said their  
blood is incredibly strong. We would no longer need to endanger the Masquerade  
by feeding on humans. All the Kindred in our city could spend eternity drawing  
from the blood of only one of this kind."

Julian paled. "The Clan that possessed such a thing would be very powerful,  
and safe. The Kindred would tear themselves apart trying to get this being."

Daedalus placed a comforting hand on his arm, dreading to add to his Prince's  
unhappiness. "Julian, if you care for this human, you must never go near him  
again. If he has survived this long, it is due to our ignorance. You will have  
to preserve that." 

Julian's breath left him in a rush. He knew Daedalus was right, but it caused  
a pain in his chest worse than any wound he had ever had. Never see Duncan  
again? It was all he could do to tear himself away from the man to return to  
his city. Making plans to have Duncan visit him were the only thoughts that  
had kept him in the car the whole way back. He had never been as attracted to  
anyone as he was to Duncan, and it was searing his soul to know that he  
presented the greatest danger to the only man he had ever loved so deeply...


	3. Abbie

He stumbled up to his bedroom in a daze, trusting Daedalus to understand he  
needed to be alone. He had argued with himself that what the Nosferatu was  
suggesting was ludicrous, that the man Julian had laughed with and talked with  
and loved with could possibly be a myth. The Kindred equivalent of the Holy  
Grail! Preposterous, yet the myth supported events almost too well, and no  
other explanation was coming to hand.

Julian stripped his clothes savagely from his body, frustrated beyond words. A  
large part of him wanted very much for Duncan to be there with him so he could  
show him to Daedalus, show him how Duncan was a beautiful, live, intelligent  
man, and not some type of human food bank for Kindred. Julian threw himself  
into his cold bed, extremely glad Lillie had decided to sleep elsewhere  
tonight. No doubt she figured she was punishing him for being so obtuse about  
his trip and what he had been up to, but it made life easier for him right now.  
He was in no mood for her machinations or her sympathy or even her willing  
body. He would have rudely ordered her out of his bed and he would have paid  
the price dearly for it later. 

Right now though, what he really wanted was Duncan's silky smooth skin warm  
against him, large hand stroking his face, calming him by holding him with his  
strength and a litany of low toned words to wash over Julian's irritated  
nerves. Although still miserable, he had almost quieted himself with the  
fantasy when a loud ring sounded by his head, making him twitch and swear, and  
bringing all his inner turmoil to the fore. He grabbed the receiver violently,  
fully prepared to vent his growing anger on whomever had dared disturb him.

"Yes?" he answered curtly.

The caller paused, suddenly unsure of himself. "Uh, I'm looking for Julian  
Luna...."

"Duncan!" Julian's emotions took a hard swerve left, causing his Kindred heart  
to thump, and the sudden shift in tone made the other man chuckle. 

Duncan had wondered if he should call Julian so soon, but he had missed the  
man like he'd lost his best friend, and had finally come up with a plausible  
excuse to phone. Hearing Julian nearly squeal with delight put him at ease; he  
wasn't the only one who had been feeling bereft since the man had left his bed.

"Duncan, I'm so glad to hear from you."

"Hi Julian- I hope I didn't disturb you, but I just wanted to know if  
you...you know...got home okay." In Seacouver, Duncan winced. It had sounded so  
much better in his head when he had thought of it.

"No, you're not disturbing me at all. Got home just fine, thanks. In fact, I'm  
still worried about *you.* Are you okay?" He snagged a pillow and stuffed it  
next to his body, wrapping himself around it protectively.

"Oh, I'm fine. Listen, don't worry about what happened."

Julian considered. "It's happened before, hasn't it?"

Duncan almost laughed out loud. "Yeah, a few times. I'll be fine, I promise."  
He spoke the last two words with a deep purr, sending goose bumps up and down  
Julian's body. Duncan hesitated then, longing to know how Julian felt about him  
and scared that his feelings were showing so plainly, but opting for honesty  
again. "I miss you. Already."

Julian rolled onto his back and bit his lips to keep them from trembling, his  
nerves too raw to be able to hide much. "I...it's never been this difficult,  
before."

Duncan nodded, not realizing Julian couldn't see him. "Yeah, for me either. I  
mean, I haven't known you that long, yet..."

"I know. I feel like I've known you for centuries." For some reason, that made  
Duncan let loose a throaty chuckle. Julian smiled, he liked making Duncan laugh  
and he was pleased he could manage to do it when Duncan was feeling down.  
Although, he mused, he probably shouldn't be too surprised, since Duncan had  
done virtually the same thing for him when he called. Julian knew he shouldn't  
encourage Duncan, but right now he really needed to hear his lover's voice.  
Running a hand slowly down across his stomach, he spoke seductively into the  
receiver. "So...what are you wearing?"

Duncan laughed again, making Julian grin. "Oh, the usual. Nothing but a bonny,  
checkered kilt."

Julian snorted. "Are you "regimental?""

"Always."

"I see. Now all we need is a good, stiff breeze." 

"So, whot are *yew* wearin'?" Duncan asked in an outlandish Scottish accent.

Julian smiled devilishly, and Duncan swore he could hear it over the phone.  
"Me? I'm just dressed in the dawn's early light." A soft growl echoed down the  
line from Seacouver.

"Mmm, what you do to me..." Julian thought he could hear rustling in the  
background.

"Duncan...did you just slip your hand under your kilt?"

"Hmmm...what do *you* think?" Duncan glanced towards his cock, which was  
merrily pitching a tent under the sheets by his groin.

Julian grinned. "You're insatiable. Besides, I didn't say you could do that  
yet."

Duncan snorted. "I call on my dime and you get to tell me what to do?"

"That's right. Now...get that hand back up where it belongs." Duncan laughed  
incredulously, but obeyed. "I want you to lie back, but keep one leg up, and  
relax. Listen to my voice and close your eyes." Julian imitated his own  
instructions, getting into the game. "Take a deep breath, and run your hand  
over your chest, just through the hair-no nipples yet! Did I tell you how much  
I love your chest?"

"Mmmm...No."

Julian remembered distinctly a comment he had made when he was with Duncan.  
"Yes I did!"

"Yeah, but I like hearing about it."

Julian chuckled. "I liked running my hands over your skin, feeling the hair  
tickle my hands..."

"Are you sure that was *my* hair? You seem awfully good at this..." Duncan  
snickered.

"Shut up and pay attention," Julian admonished, good naturedly. He breathed  
deeply for a few moments, picturing Duncan sprawled on his expansive bed, lazy  
smile gracing his face. "Okay, just use your fingertips now...touch your right  
nipple..." Duncan did as he was told, marveling at how all it took was  
Julian's voice and some light pressure to bring the nub to hardness. "Now...run  
your fingertip over to the other one, and circle it slowly before you touch the  
nipple..." A somewhat breathy noise came over the line, and Julian licked his  
lips, remembering the salty softness of Duncan's areolas. His mouth watered,  
wishing he could tongue them himself. "Now, flick your thumb over it, again and  
again, until I tell you to stop." He could hear rustling again, and he pictured  
Duncan wriggling under his own torment. "That's good...now roll it between your  
fingers. Don't stop." Julian played along, mimicking Duncan's actions until he  
heard a tiny whine from the man. "Okay, go over to the other one and do the  
same thing. Harder this time, more like a good pinch." A deeper moan came  
through this time, Julian remembering how sensitive Duncan's nipples were.

"Now...put your first two fingers in your mouth, get them nice and wet..."  
Duncan obeyed, sweating with excitement at being completely at Julian's mercy.  
"I want you to reach down between your legs and run them up under your cock.  
Right where it feels good..." With shuddering breath, Duncan slid his wet  
digits up along the vein until he reached the head. "I can picture what you  
look like, Duncan, you're so beautiful..." Julian nearly lost his own breath at  
the picture in his mind of a flushed and hard Duncan. "Slide your fingers over  
the head now...are you wet, Duncan?" 

A hissing groan sounded in Duncan's voice as he answered. "Oh...yes." He  
licked his lips hurriedly to keep from begging, playing over the slippery head  
as he felt for the slit. 

Julian's voice wavered with his arousal. "I wish I could kiss you right now."  
Another groan sounded in Julian's ear, and Duncan's cock twitched so violently  
that he momentarily lost his position. "You've been so good, Duncan...wrap your  
hand around your cock and squeeze for me." A whiney groan this time, and more  
rustling of sheets. Duncan relaxed his legs, his entire world centered on the  
sultry voice on the phone and imagining the warm grip around his cock was  
Julian's hand. 

Julian himself was having a bit of a trial keeping the pace slow and teasing  
on his own hard cock. He arched his head and moaned back at Duncan. "You know  
what I want now...slide up and down...up and down...you feel so good. I could  
do this to you all day..." Julian tried desperately to keep his breathing as  
quiet as possible, straining to hear the slick-wet sounds of Duncan working his  
sex. Julian pumped himself in time with him, his arousal becoming a blazing  
ache within. Duncan began to make short, panting whines and Julian hurried to  
keep up. "Oh...oh...okay...stay with me Duncan...that's it...mmmm...." Julian  
could hear Duncan's breath become uneven, and he grunted softly. 

"Yes..."

"Lay the phone on the pillow...just listen to my...my voice..." Julian clawed  
for self-restraint, knowing what he wanted for his lover. "Take your other  
hand...over your balls...oh..." He lost focus for a moment as he gently fondled  
himself, but was brought back to the moment when he heard Duncan moaning louder  
and in rhythm. "Reach down...all the way...just one finger in...push for me..."  
No more words were needed as Duncan loudly announced his orgasm, shouting  
Julian's name in joy, triggering Julian's own pearly release. Both men spent  
several moments in tandem bliss, made all the sweeter by the other man on the  
line. Julian heard thumping noises and then Duncan's satisfied groans seemed  
farther away, with a strange echoed quality. Grinning in satisfaction, he  
waited patiently for Duncan to come to his senses as well and find the phone  
which had dropped to the floor.

"Oh...shit...hello? Julian, are you still with me?"

Julian gave a dignified giggle. "You threw me on the floor!"

Duncan laughed. "Yeah, but...uhm...I just rescued you from all the nasties  
under the bed!" 

"Hmmm, I suppose that counts for something." Julian broke into a wide smile,  
squashing the pillow against him, his body's unconscious attempt to hug his  
mortal lover.

"Considering the things under my bed, it counts a lot." 

Julian snorted, then sighed in afterglow. Duncan too settled down on his bed,  
cuddling the phone by his face. They talked some more, trading stories and  
outrageous jokes until Julian could hear the tell-tale slur in Duncan's voice.  
The man had to be exhausted, they had both been up practically all night.  
Happily, Duncan didn't have pressing work plans, so Julian didn't feel overly  
guilty. He himself would rise in a few hours, but spending time with Duncan was  
worth the missed sleep. All too soon, memories of these sweet, stolen moments  
would be all he had of his mythical lover, as he was going to have to figure a  
way to bring himself to give Duncan up. His heart still raged at the  
unfairness, and his long-distance coupling with him indicated how rebellious he  
was towards that unfairness. Blissfully unaware of the turmoil he was causing  
in the Kindred's life, Duncan began to drift off, lulled by Julian's seductive  
voice.

"You'd better go to sleep Duncan, you're going to be a zombie tomorrow."

"Mmm...'sokay, glad I called. Wuz fun."

"Yeah, for me too. Sweet dreams, my love."

"Hmmmm, you too.." Duncan pressed a kiss to the tiny holes in the receiver,  
hearing Julian sigh just before the line disconnected. The morning light wedged  
itself between the curtains by Duncan's bed, unable to rouse it's single  
occupant, and was similarly frustrated in a bedroom in San Francisco.

The better part of two weeks had flown by, held aloft on the wings of two   
lovers who needed to be together, but could not. Julian knew he had to stop,   
knew it was going to be up to him to end the affair, yet every time he   
called Duncan, the words died in his throat. He had meant to halt this   
before now, really he had, but invariably Duncan would make him laugh or say   
something interesting and they would be off again, chatting like old   
friends. Before either of them knew it, hours had passed. Julian found   
himself fascinated by Duncan's grasp of history, and he had also traveled   
more extensively than Julian. The Kindred was held spellbound hearing Duncan   
describing what he had experienced, so vivid a picture the mortal painted   
for him. While talking to Duncan, Julian could forget about his duties and   
his cares, one of which was his responsibility to keep Duncan safe by   
staying out of his life. He found that he looked forward to late evenings so   
he could talk with the man, even though it made his body ache to be with   
him. Of course, more than once he gave in to the urges to hear Duncan   
gasping his name over the phone. The mortal had even started to joke about   
Julian having an 800 number.

Lillie noticed his new behavior, and the fact that Julian was not coaxing   
her back to his bed was frustrating her. She pieced things together and   
decided he had most likely found a lover in Seacouver, and a male one at   
that. She had originally assumed the male scent he had worn on his return   
was Thomas Grendel's, but after intercepting the phone bill, she discovered   
the number he was calling was not the Prince of Seacouver. At first anger   
and jealousy had nipped at her heart, but she decided she wasn't going to   
make a fool of herself this time. She wasn't going to chase after Julian   
like some starry-eyed girl, depressing herself in the process. Just like   
Caitlin, this new lover would either die or wind up unable to really have a   
relationship with Julian because he could never tell his mortal lovers   
exactly what he was. In the end, it would be as it always was. He would slip   
back into her arms, seeking the comfort of his own kind. And maybe this   
time, she would make him work at it a little bit more. With that thought in   
mind, she spent a few nights at the Haven, seeking out her next handsome   
lover to stand in until Julian came to his senses.

The sun was slipping into the horizon when Julian stepped outside to sit by   
the fountain. He had been brooding nearly all evening, and Daedalus let him   
have an hour to himself before he joined him by the cooling water. The   
Nosferatu could tell by the way his Prince had been acting that he had yet   
to break things off with his lover in Seacouver, and he knew Julian was well   
aware of the right thing to do, he just hadn't been able to bring himself to   
do it. Daedalus didn't think less of his Prince for it, he had faced this   
very point in the road himself many times. It was always hard, and it always   
hurt. After a short while, Daedalus had risen and left. He had said all he   
needed to the night Julian had returned, there was no use repeating himself.   
His presence alone had served as a reminder to Julian what he needed to do,   
and with a leaden heart, Julian made his way to his bedroom and phoned   
Seacouver.

"Hello?"

"Duncan. It's Julian."

"Hey Julian! I was just thinking about you..."

Julian's brow wrinkled as he tried to keep his emotions in check, and spoke   
softly. "Only wicked thoughts, I hope."

The smile was in Duncan's voice and it tore at Julian anew. "Are there any   
others worth mentioning?"

Julian laughed softly. "Uhm, Duncan...you know, I was thinking. I've loved   
talking with you these past weeks...I feel like I know you better than   
anyone I've ever met. I don't regret a moment we have spent together on the   
phone, and I wouldn't change it for anything in the world, but I...uhm...I   
have to..." His words spun out like the end of a film, leaving him   
sputtering and unsure. So far he had handed Duncan the cheesiest let-down   
lines he had ever heard. Infuriated with himself, he realized Duncan   
deserved better. He would not do this over the phone. "I was   
wondering...uhm, are you busy tomorrow evening? I'd like to drop by..."

"Oh sure! I'd love that. You wanna come for dinner?" Duncan silently   
breathed a sigh of relief. Julian's speech had begun to sound suspiciously   
like good-bye, but apparently the man was just hurting for some time   
together and scared to admit he might have other feelings for Duncan. It had   
been hell for him as well, he had dreamt of holding Julian every night since   
he had left, and feeling other feelings too.

"No. After dinner is better."

"Okay, no problem. I'll see you tomorrow then!"

"Okay, great. Bye." Julian disconnected the line before his voice betrayed   
him. He knew he had just made life infinitely harder on himself, and hung   
his head, wondering how he was going to manage this. After a few minutes, he   
slipped quietly downstairs, searching for Cash. He found the young Gangrel   
in the library, reading. He knew the others thought of Cash as just the   
rebellious street punk he started life as, forgetting how intelligent the   
man really was. Cash looked up from his book, concern touching his face   
when he saw his Prince.

"Julian?"

Julian sat on an ottoman facing Cash, hands rubbing together in a futile   
attempt to ease his distress. "Cash, I need to go back to Seacouver   
tomorrow," he began. "This is going to be a fairly quick trip, just up and   
back." Cash nodded, knowing by his Sire's voice that this would be a   
discreet venture. "I'm not taking anyone else, just you and me."

His lips pressed into a line, showing his displeasure at Julian's risk, but   
he didn't have the heart to argue with the man. Julian looked like he was   
journeying to execute his best friend, and Cash wondered if that were not   
the case. Julian smiled at him and grasped his arm in relief when Cash   
accepted, then rose and left the room, his shoulders round with defeat. It   
hurt Cash to see Julian like this, but it warmed his heart to know Julian   
trusted him enough to want him with him. He spent the rest of the evening   
going over the details that would allow the two Kindred to leave nearly   
undetected. Considering Julian had just made the trip a few weeks ago, no   
one would be expecting him to return to Seacouver so soon, and it would buy   
them an element of cover.

Julian phoned Lillie at her club, asking her and Daedalus to watch his city   
for the short amount of time he was going to be gone. With sincere sympathy   
in her voice she agreed. Obviously things had turned out badly between   
Julian and his lover, and although she could not fathom why the Prince had   
to put in a personal appearance, he would return quickly and most likely   
need her to comfort him again. Julian didn't even bother to tell Daedalus,   
the Nosferatu would know. Plans set in motion, Julian curled up on his bed   
without getting undressed, paying absolutely no attention to the white satin   
pillow case he was staining red with blood.

The next evening found Duncan in his apartment, lighting candles and tidying   
up the place a bit. It wasn't a heart-stopping seduction scene, he decided.   
More of a homey, come-lie-on-my-couch-and-stick-your-tongue-in-my-mouth,   
sort of display. He had just fluffed up the couch pillows when his toe   
bumped something solid just under the edge, sending it skittering out the   
other side. Curious, he stalked around to pick up the small, leather bound   
volume, flipping it open to see what it was. The book jogged his memory as   
he quickly scanned the images. Julian had been reading through it their   
first night together and it had fallen victim to unleashed passion, lying   
unnoticed and uncared for on the floor. Duncan felt a shiver climb his thighs   
just thinking about that night as he put the book back in it's proper place   
on the shelf.

As soon as he did, he heard the elevator announce his visitor. Despite the   
lack of Immortal buzz, he couldn't help but tense, waiting to see if it were   
friend or foe. Julian's raven hair rose into view and he sighed in relief,   
both for the lack of danger and the joy at seeing Julian again at last.   
Without thought he had crossed the room and enveloped the man in a bear hug.   
Julian wrapped his arms around him tightly, burying his face in Duncan's   
hair, which was haloing his shoulders. Duncan moved just enough to secure   
his lips against Julian's neck, placing small kisses against the smooth   
skin.

"I have missed you *so* much," Duncan whispered against the pale throat, and   
felt Julian shiver.

"I've missed you too, more than you will know." Julian pulled himself away   
then, although he kept his hands cupped around Duncan's face. "Oh,   
Duncan..." He suddenly looked very miserable and was unable to meet Duncan's   
eyes.

"Julian? Are you okay? Take your coat off, I'll get you a drink." There was   
an icy feeling crawling through Duncan, shaking awake his heart's instincts.

Julian sighed, he knew this wasn't going to be easy, but he had   
underestimated his own response at having Duncan's arms around him again.   
The temptation to give in, to stay just one night and let Duncan pour out   
his love on him, was something he could almost touch. He looked at the man's   
slightly furrowed brow and all the gentle and logical words he had rehearsed   
on his drive up scattered like leaves in a hurricane. He swallowed sharply.   
"No, I can't stay."

Julian watched as Duncan folded himself up inside, just a bit. "So, what's   
wrong?"

"Duncan...I can't....I can't see you anymore." Biting his lip, he turned   
away from Duncan, completely unable to watch the emotions he was sure he   
would find on his lover's face. He heard a slight noise behind him, and   
waited.

"Why?" It was said with calm, a serenity at odds with the emotions churning   
in his heart.

"I just, can't. Anymore." Julian ran a hand through his hair, a sure sign of   
stress. He reminded himself why he was here and not doing this on the phone,   
and turned to look at Duncan, almost undone by the sight. Duncan fidgeted,   
his lips pressed in a line as he swallowed with effort, his eyes soft with   
questions. "It's not you, oh God Duncan, you were the best thing that's   
happened to my life. I've been so damn happy since I met you. But...it's   
complicated, and I can't go into it. Just know that I..."

"You're married, aren't you?"

"What?" Julian almost laughed. "No, no. I'm not married." He shouldn't have   
been surprised that the other man would come to that conclusion. Many men   
lead double lives when it came to their homosexuality. "It's more of   
a...family thing. They just can't know about you. About us."

Duncan nodded silently, his expression pure misery. "I understand. They'd be   
ashamed of us." Part of him was wanting very much for Julian to tell his   
family to stuff it and run away with him, but they had only shared two   
nights together and several conversations on the phone. It was asking a lot   
of Julian to turn his back on his whole world for Duncan's sake, but it   
still hurt like hell.

"No, not that either. It's for protection, Duncan. I have to..." Julian   
sighed, reaching out to stroke Duncan's arm, perversely relieved when the   
man didn't pull away. "They're my Clan. I have many responsibilities to   
them, things I can't go into."

Without knowing it, Julian had said the magic word. Duncan understood   
responsibility to one's Clan, what that required of a man. He had been born   
and raised to put his people's needs above his own, even in matters of the   
heart. It did nothing to lessen the knot in his throat, but at least he knew   
Julian wasn't doing this because he was ashamed of him, of what they had   
shared. He pulled Julian into a fierce embrace, lips beginning to tremble as   
he ground out words into the man's shoulder. "It's okay, I understand. I   
really do." He felt Julian shake in his arms, and tried not to focus on the   
fact that this would be the last time he held his beautiful, wolf-eyed   
lover. "Julian, if you ever need help, I'm right here. You can call me   
anytime." His voice began to waver. "I'm going to miss you so much..." He   
couldn't hold back tears anymore, and there was no point anyway.

Julian swiftly kissed Duncan's mouth, a fleeting brush of hot lips against   
his own. "I don't want to do this, I want you to know that." He pulled away,   
turning from the mortal before his own tears burned red lines down his face.   
"I love you Duncan." There was no stopping them now, and Julian walked   
swiftly into the elevator, his hand covering the tell-tale marks, never   
turning back towards Duncan as he descended to the lower floor. He stepped   
swiftly out of the building and into the waiting car, closing the door   
quickly, his head still in his hands.

Cash laid a firm hand on Julian's shoulder as a sob escaped him. On the   
drive up Cash had figured out that Julian had formed a close bond with his   
mortal lover, but he hadn't thought Julian was this far in. There really   
wasn't anything he could do, and decided the best thing was to get Julian   
back home among familiar surroundings and family. He did offer Julian a   
tissue to wipe away the blood, which Julian was grateful for.

"Thank you, Cash." Julian seemed to be more in control now, digging a hole   
in the back of his heart for these feelings he would deal with later. He   
briefly squeezed the hand at his shoulder, once again glad he had the young   
Kindred. "Oh, that was worse than having to call a bloodhunt for Alexandra."   
Julian sat up, sighing, casting a last look up at Duncan's apartment.   
Thinking of Alexandra gave him an idea, and it gave him something else to think  
about besides the loss of his lover. "Cash, head up to Thomas'. I have   
something to ask of him." Cash nodded, gently pulling the car out onto the   
street and headed towards the home of the Prince of Seacouver.

Two pairs of eyes watched again, one impassively, the other sparkling with   
interest. A cell phone was dug out of a pocket, a call made, and a cigarette   
was lit, the tiny spark flaring briefly in the darkness.

* * *

Abbie sighed, fighting the lassitude of boredom. Most of Joe's assignments   
were like this, but her training warned her to keep her wits sharp. She was   
perched on the roof, night vision binoculars in hand, scanning the street   
below Duncan's apartment. There had been activity earlier, when Duncan's new   
lover had come to visit. Joe had told her to keep a look out for him, as if   
she would miss that one. He had paused, looking up at Duncan's window before   
he had gone in, and her opinion of the Highlander had crawled up one small   
notch. Luna was the standard tall and dark, but he had a rather beautiful   
face. Unlike most of the other young, female Watchers, she did not think   
Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod was God's gift to the planet, which was   
probably why Joe roped her into watching the big lug so much. That, and her   
somewhat unique skills and toys.

She checked her watch again, thinking of Joe. He was okay, a real nice guy,   
and goodness knew the few extra bucks he bribed her with were never   
unwelcome. But she had a lot of trust issues and fought against her   
willingness to accept Joe as some sort of father substitute. First off, it   
wasn't fair to her fathers memory. That man had taught her everything that   
had helped her get through the roughest parts of her life. No one had ever   
talked about it, but by the time she had reached her teenage years, she   
suspected her dad had worked for the CIA in some capacity. He just knew way   
too much spy type stuff, and not the over-blown secret agent crap either.   
Real, practical lessons that taught her things she kept quietly to herself.

When her father had finally died, she had no desire to work for the   
government, and hooking up with the Watchers had seemed like a more   
interesting and slightly less insidious prospect. At least she knew where   
everyone stood, for the most part, their motives and agenda laid out. They   
spied on Immortals, not really bothering to mistrust each other. This   
attitude had backfired on them a few times, but the organization needed to   
have that illusion of unity, of "us" and "them," or they would never   
accomplish anything.

To Abbie, it was more subdivided; into "them," "the other them," and "me."   
It worked out best that way, for all parties. The Immortals had never heard   
or seen her, the Watchers got to utilize her abilities and access to   
gadgetry, and she got to...sit on a cold rooftop and try to keep from   
slipping into a boredom induced coma. She sighed again, checking through her   
specs, willing something to happen at Duncan's place, wishing she could   
plant a listening device in his bedroom. At least it would have been   
entertaining. She wondered how long this affair would last, Duncan tended to   
work his way through lovers at a good clip. Which was unfortunate, she was   
rather intrigued by the new one. Joe had told her he was a businessman from   
San Francisco, in town looking for antiques, and had wound up running into   
the Highlander and spending the night with him.

Abbie snorted. "Uh huh. If he's a business man out shopping, I'm next in   
line for the English throne." His posture spoke of authority, but it wasn't   
the falsely arrogant posturing guys involved in the mob tended to do, and   
his face had been entirely too open when he had looked up. No disinterested   
posing here, he had worn his emotions without fear. She inspected his car, a   
large vehicle, but not flashy. It held one driver, his face hidden from view   
by the angle, but she could make out a jacket and jeans, odd uniform for a   
driver. A relative maybe? Perhaps Luna's "business associates" did not   
approve of his decidedly masculine choice for lover.

She heard a door opening and Luna stepped out. "Oh, crap." He was obviously   
upset, almost diving into the safety of his car, his hand cradling his face   
from view. Damn, the Highlander had blown it again. A surge of anger whipped   
through Abbie. She had just gotten interested in figuring out who and what   
Luna was, and the ignorant Scot had screwed it all up! She had never heard   
bad things about the Highlander, but he had to be the most idiotic and   
uncaring individual. His lovers rarely hung around for long. She watched   
with some sympathy as Duncan's former lover sat in his car, collecting   
himself. His driver had offered him a hanky-definitely a relative, or very,   
very trusted friend. Obviously the guy had it bad for MacLeod, and part of   
her wished the man well as he drove off into the night.

Ten minutes later she cursed herself for not slipping into the trunk of the   
car and letting them drive off with her. Since Luna had left, the only   
activity had been one guy a few buildings down from Duncan's, smoking a butt   
and talking on the phone. Probably waiting for a "shipment" to be dropped   
off, although he had a big surprise coming if he thought he could operate   
his drug trade in Duncan's territory. The Highlander tended to scare off the   
more shady elements in the neighborhood. Having a six-foot, two hundred   
pound wall of annoyed Immortal on your case would make the decision to go   
elsewhere rather easy. She checked the building across the street, it's   
window reflecting Duncan's windows rather well. He still had the lights on,   
but she couldn't tell if he was doing his normal pacing.

To her delight, three motorcycles drove up just then, startling her.   
Uncharacteristically, they sported very efficient mufflers, practically   
under her nose before she was aware they were there. Her own bike was quiet,   
but she spent a moment admiring them. These were things of beauty, all matte   
black-definitely custom jobs. They parked up the street right in front of   
her smoking loiterer, and he stepped out to greet them. The men themselves   
were amazingly quiet, with none of the normal loud and brazen back-slapping   
rituals she often viewed between rough men. And these were rough men. Half   
Goth and half animal looking, they pooled together for a moment, then turned   
and headed towards her. Shockingly, they walked straight up to the   
Highlander's door, stopping only briefly before stepping inside.

Abbie chewed her bottom lip, her eyebrows on the rise. Did Duncan suddenly   
develop a desire for leathersex? She doubted it, although if that were the   
case, she was installing that bug in Duncan's apartment without the   
Watcher's needing to know about it. She flicked her specs at his window   
again, somewhat frustrated to learn the lights were no longer on. Several   
minutes crawled by, but no sounds reached her, and she resisted the   
temptation to use her heat seeking device to check if MacLeod was still   
alive. It was a handy little gadget no one knew she had, and it allowed her   
to check on an Immortal target from a short distance without having to get   
too close. Unfortunately, it gave off a high pitched whine on start up, and   
she didn't feel like blowing her position. She wondered idly if one of the   
men had been an Immortal and was employing mortals to kill Duncan before   
taking his head. It had been done before, there were records of such   
"cheating" throughout the Watcher Chronicles, but there was no tell-tale   
Quickening coming from the dark apartment below.

Not half an hour after Luna had left, a black van, sporting the same exhaust   
muffling features as the bikes, pulled up in front of the building. Abbie's   
interest was renewed, and she watched as the three bikers and her loiterer   
stepped out, carrying a rolled up carpet in their arms. She almost laughed   
out loud at the sight, she didn't think *anyone* used that old trick   
anymore. Still, in the dark of night on a deserted street, it probably   
didn't matter. Duncan was obviously dead, although the men were in for a   
surprise when he revived. She speculated briefly on whether this kidnap had   
something to do with Luna as she dug her cell out of her pocket.

"Hello?"

"Joe, it's Abbie. Listen, your Immortal pet is in trouble again." She could   
almost hear Joe scowling on the other end. He hated it when she referred to   
MacLeod as his pet. "Four guys just hauled his dead ass out to their black   
van. No, I can't see from here. One driver, all fairly young looking punks.   
I'll follow them as far as...no, it's cool. Joe, for crying out loud, how   
long have I been doing this now? Gimmie a break. I'll call you when they   
land." Shaking her head at Joe's misplaced sense of protectiveness, she kept   
an eye on the men loading their prize in the van as she worked her way   
nimbly down to the dark side alley where her own bike was stashed. She   
flipped on her helmet and rolled the bike silently out to the street,   
waiting for the van and the accompanying motorcycles to get almost to the   
end of the block before she gunned the engine. Following them was going to   
be easy as traffic was starting to thin out, and she kept a sizeable   
distance away.

In the privacy of the back room of the bar Joe hung up the phone, and Methos   
could tell by the dark look on his face it wasn't good news. Which meant,   
most likely, it involved the Highlander. He very nearly stopped the smirk   
from surfacing on his face, but gave in to it when Joe nodded at him.

"Well, what is it this time? Upstart Immortal? Old lover turned psycho? Did   
he give someone in the 1850's a bad haircut and they're now out to seek   
revenge? Come on Joe, I'm down by two here." As Methos had hoped, this made   
Joe grin a bit. The mortal had been over at the Highlander's one night when   
Methos and MacLeod had tallied how many times they had pulled each other's   
bacon out of the fire. Methos had tried to convince the stubborn Scot that   
the last two times he had helped Methos were merely assists, but to no   
avail.

Joe sighed. "You know, things had really started to slow down a bit for   
him."

Methos nodded in sympathy. Several years ago both he and MacLeod had faced   
an unusual amount of Immortal challenges. "Yeah, well, things were certainly   
more lively a few years ago, I'll grant you." Joe leveled a glare at him.   
"It always is around the millennium. I know, I've lived through a few.   
People get all crazy, Immortals start believing the Gathering has to be   
happening, and you get them coming out of the woodwork. It's almost funny   
when they come to their senses five years later and realize life goes on."   
He rested his chin in his hand, looking expectantly at Joe and waited for   
news of what trouble MacLeod was in now.

Joe shifted in his seat, wishing not for the first time he had the luxury of   
pacing. "I'm not sure Immortals are even involved. Right now it sounds like   
a straight kidnapping case, although Abbie indicated Duncan was dead when   
they took him."

Methos' ears perked up. "Who?"

"Abbie. She's a Watcher trainee, although I happen to know she can run rings   
around her fellow trainees and rivals some of the younger field agents we   
already have. I knew her father, although he and I were only acquaintances.   
He worked for the government on some sensitive projects, taught the kid   
well. I ask her to do some of the more "athletic" duties now and again."

Methos smiled. "Ah. Scot sitting."

"Yeah. She's good too, he hasn't spotted her yet."

Methos rose from his sprawl in the chair and headed for his coat. "She must   
be good, then."

Joe chuckled. "I've even had her tailing you, you know."

Methos swung around with a shocked expression on his face. "Not a chance!"   
He shrugged into his overcoat, settling the huge broadsword into place.

"Where are you going?"

Methos inhaled noisily. "I thought I'd go round to Mac's place, see what I   
can see before it all gets trampled. May let us know better if we're up   
against Immortals or not. Give me a call when she phones in?"

Joe nodded. As much as Methos made out like MacLeod was a major   
inconvenience to him, he was always the first to start thinking of a way to   
keep the Highlander alive and in the game. Over the past years the two   
Immortals had rekindled their friendship, although it would never return to   
the easy camaraderie they had enjoyed prior to Kronos showing up. Before   
then, Joe suspected Methos and Mac might even get together, but considering   
the damage that they had done to each other over the Horsemen, the deepening   
friendship they had now was a welcome surprise. "Good luck, and thanks   
Methos."

The ancient Immortal turned back, a wicked look in his eye. "Oh wait-I   
remember now. Not too tall, reddish brown hair, round face, pretty eyes..."

"Methos!" Joe scowled at the retreating Immortal, annoyed that the man had,   
indeed, spotted his wily agent.

* * *

Julian stared out the side window, his thoughts stuck in the same loop, over  
and over. He saw Duncan's face when he closed his eyes, and he could still feel  
where Duncan had wrapped his arms around him in a tight band of despair, still  
offering himself if Julian ever needed him. Julian sighed heavily as he watched  
Seacouver drift by. There was only one more thing he could offer his lover, one  
last, small favor he could do for the man. 

They pulled up in the drive of Thomas Grendel's main house, and while it  
lacked the grandeur of Julian's historic home in San Francisco, it was still a  
large and charming piece of architecture. Guards recognized them, discreetly  
scenting them as they climbed out of their car. One couldn't assume these days,  
and it was odd that Julian had come back already. A young Gangrel scurried off  
to inform Thomas he had guests again, and Julian and Cash waited patiently in  
the foyer.

* * *

Abbie was in hot pursuit of the black van with it's escort of motorcycles,  
keeping herself as far back as she dared and using every technique she knew to  
shadow them without letting them know. It was tricky business once they left  
the main streets of Seacouver and headed out towards the wooded areas. She  
memorized the tail light pattern and kept herself far back, tracking them by  
the lights alone. Several times she thought of phoning Joe, but the  
perfectionist part of her did not want to give up the chase until she had a  
firm address to call in. She bit her lip as the traffic thinned out and there  
were no more street lights to illuminate the road. It would be far easier for  
her quarry to spot her now.

* * *

Methos pulled up in front of MacLeod's apartment, quietly and casually letting  
himself in. Whoever had absconded with the Scot, they had closed the door, but  
not locked it. He looked over the elevator as he rose, but there were no drops  
of blood or deliberately placed matchbooks to serve as clues. Opening the  
elevator, he switched on the lights and stood still, taking in the scene. For a  
brief moment, he felt like Sherlock Holmes. "I certainly have the features for  
it," he mumbled to himself, rubbing his nose. As he carefully stepped to the  
living area, he made plans to tease Joe and Duncan with the notion that he had  
been the model for the Sherlock Holmes stories. "Sometimes Immortality can be a  
hoot." He didn't allow himself to think of a future without the Highlander in  
it, resolutely shoving negative possibilities to the back of his mind for now.

Signs of a struggle were obvious in a tipped over lamp and at least two  
fingers of scotch that had dribbled out of the broken glass on the floor. The  
bed had not been slept in, and there were candles guttering in the living room  
which he blew out carefully, no sense in burning down the Highlander's home. He  
checked for Mac's katana and found it missing, which could mean MacLeod managed  
to reach it before he was attacked, but that whomever had taken him had taken  
the sword as well. There was blood on one carpet, but not a huge stain, so most  
likely not a head wound. The other rug was missing, something he wouldn't have  
noticed if he didn't spend so much time in this apartment. They no doubt had  
used it to transport MacLeod's body, and part of him was concerned as to why  
the men who had taken Duncan would even bother to move a dead body. 

The only scenarios he could come up with were both chilling. Perhaps the men  
were employed by an Immortal who wanted the body brought to another location  
that they felt safe to take in the Quickening. Or, he knew people who ran afoul  
of the Mob tended to get shot and then hacked to pieces to scatter the remains,  
although the mortals were in for a hell of a shock if they managed to saw off  
MacLeod's head. The thought made his insides clench, but then he pictured  
Duncan reviving before they got to his head...possibly after they had taken off  
his arms or legs...the proud warrior reduced to a helpless stump of a man.  
Methos quickly rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to banish the thoughts. He  
couldn't bear to think about that happening to his friend, mostly because he  
had seen what it did to an Immortal who had been tortured so. Mostly because he  
had been the one who did it...

"All right, all right. Enough of that, back to work." Shaking himself and  
walking into the kitchen, he found a spent cigarette butt in the sink. It sent  
a small shiver up his spine. Either the kidnappers were stupid, leaving an  
obvious clue like that, or they didn't care because they would never be found.  
Methos bit his lips, hoping stupidity would win out. 

He was frustrated that he could find no clear indication of whether he was  
dealing with an Immortal or not, there was really no way of telling. Hands  
jammed in his coat, he was headed towards the elevator when he noticed a few  
browning stains on the smooth floor. Squatting on his haunches, he recognized  
it as dried blood, but what was odd was that it appeared that someone had tried  
to clean it off the floor in odd little strokes. Frowning, he wondered why they  
would attempt to clear away this detail when they had blatantly left a butt in  
the sink. And why had the blood smeared into such a weird pattern? It was  
almost as if they had only used the tip of a cloth to dab it up, instead of a  
smooth sweep over the mess. 

Then he noticed off to the side of the area was a spot that bore the tell-tale  
signs of a finger print. It wasn't much, but it was obviously part of a thumb.  
Methos puzzled over that one until he found a matching mark on the opposite  
side. Blinking, he decided to follow Holmes' example and carefully lined his  
hands up with the print marks. He knelt on his hands and knees, the swirled  
stain area under him. Leaning down to get a closer look, he realized with a  
prickle of shock that the blood had dried in such an odd pattern because  
someone had bent down to lick it off the floor...

The cell phone in his pocket chose just that moment to start ringing, and  
Methos jumped to his feet like a cat, his Immortal heart hammering in his chest  
and a sinking feeling in his gut. A fear-shrouded memory was begging his  
attention, but he busied himself with answering the phone, taking a calming  
breath and gathering his wits before he answered.

"Adam Pierson."

"Methos, it's me, Joe. Abbie checked in, they've taken Mac to the old Rosemont  
place. You know the one?"

"Yeah, I've actually been there. Once." Methos quickly shut off the lights and  
made his way out to his car as he spoke.

"There are a few buildings on the site, and she wasn't close enough to see  
which one they took Mac into. She's...going to try and get in closer." 

Methos could tell by Joe's tone that he was not thrilled about her decision,  
and had most likely just come off an argument with her about it. He jumped into  
his car, starting it in haste and turning it towards the desired location.  
"Yeah, well, she knew the job was dangerous when she took it." Joe swore at his  
off-hand remark, but Methos' main concern was getting the Highlander out of  
there if possible and he could spare little thought for a fool-hardy young  
Watcher. If she was as good as Joe thought, she could get herself out of her  
own mess. "Look, if I run into her, I'll send her home."

Joe wondered for a second who would win *that* argument, but decided his money  
was safer on the sneaky Immortal. "Good luck, Methos."

Methos gripped the wheel tightly as he took a corner, unwilling to let go of  
his mercenary image. "Free beer for a month if I do."

Joe snorted. "You're on."

Inside Duncan's apartment, the phone began to ring.


	4. Immortal Blood

* * *  
Julian wanted to scream. 

He and Cash had come to Thomas' place, specifically to ask Thomas to protect  
Duncan as Julian had once done for Frank Kohanek. Duncan would never know what  
Julian had done for him, but at least he would have been safe from being  
Embraced, or worse. While he was there Thomas had received word from his loyal  
Gangrel in town that Merrick's gang was decidedly restless tonight. He had  
ordered them to be watched, and it was discovered that a group of them were  
seen on Duncan's street. Julian had phoned Duncan's apartment, but there was no  
answer. He did not believe in coincidences, at least not ones this close, and  
neither had Thomas. The Prince of Seacouver had instantly alerted his Clan to  
hunt, find out what was going on, while Julian raced back to Duncan's. Thomas  
knew this had been the mortal Julian had been with while he had visited, and  
that Julian had strong emotional ties to him. 

Cash drove as fast as he could through the twilight streets, glancing  
repeatedly at his Prince. The predatory gleam in his eye was more pronounced  
than the one he had turned on Eddie Fiori when he found out the Brujah had  
plotted to kill him. Julian knew his was a position of vulnerability, but he  
could not stand to have anyone he cared about be preyed upon, and Duncan was  
obviously dear to him. 

"Julian..."

"Cash, not now. Just drive." Julian grit his teeth in frustration and worry.  
"Dammit..."

Cash knew he was risking his wrath by adopting a firm tone, but Julian needed  
to think logically. The young Gangrel felt a bit odd at the switching of roles;  
he was usually the one who thought with his emotions. "Julian, listen to me!"  
With a glare that would have sent demons running for cover, Julian swung his  
attention to him. "If he's dead, he's dead," Cash began, halting for a second  
when he heard Julian growl, the Prince's wolfish eyes never leaving him. "And  
we tear apart whoever did this." Julian returned his attention to the road,  
swallowing his fear at the prospect of Duncan's death. "If he's been Embraced,  
he'll be Gangrel." Julian blinked, turning back to Cash. "We'll ask Thomas to  
give him to you, to live with us. We'll Blood Bond with him. I'll be his  
Primogen, and you'll be his Prince."

"I'm...not sure it would be that simple," said Julian, thinking of Daedalus'  
mythical race of Undying people, and Duncan's miraculous recovery. 

"Sure it is. If he's been Embraced, Thomas will order a bloodhunt on Merrick  
for Embracing without permission, or killing a protected mortal. Either way,  
Merrick's ass is cooked."

"That's not what I meant, exactly." Hesitantly, but deciding Cash could work  
more effectively if he knew what exactly was going on, Julian told him what  
had happened with Duncan on their last visit, and Daedalus' theory. He would  
not have the luxury of time to explain why they could not leave Duncan's dead  
body if they came across it, and there was no way he was going to leave Duncan  
anywhere this night.

* * *

At the wooded edge of the Rosemont estate, Abbie quietly stashed her bike in  
the underbrush. She had followed the van to the sprawling property and had  
stopped to phone Joe. He had been very glad of the news, but had tried to bully  
her into dropping the chase at this point and coming home. She hung up the  
phone, clipping it to her belt and remembering to turn off the ringer, having  
promised to call again when she had pinpointed MacLeod's location. One thing  
she hated was to be forced into doing anything, even if Joe meant well. She was  
the sovereign of her own affairs and would decide what was best, and right now  
satisfying her pride and curiosity was pulling her farther across the grounds.

She slipped easily towards the grouping of buildings on the estate, utilizing  
trees and brush when she could. The Rosemonts ran a small farm before they came  
into money, keeping a smattering of livestock and gardens on the property they  
built their mansion on. The last of the Rosemonts had long since left, leaving  
the property and animals to be cared for by a couple of tenants. From the  
vehicles parked by the main house, Abbie figured that's where they lived.  
However, the van and the motorcycles had parked in front of the barn, leading  
her to assume MacLeod was being stashed in there. She wasn't certain however,  
and it would bug her if Joe sent someone to help out MacLeod and they stormed  
the wrong building. 

Despite the Watcher oath, Abbie could tell Joe had no problems interfering  
with Mac's life. She herself had no great attachment to any Immortals, but she  
had long ago decided that if she ever did, she wouldn't hesitate, oaths be  
damned. The Watchers would never catch her, and MacLeod knew all about the  
Watchers anyway, so why not meddle? At least it wasn't boring. 

She had reached the safety of the stand of trees by the barn and was quite  
happy to see a relatively good sized branch was within jumping distance from  
the roof. The roof was large and angled in different places, providing an  
excellent place to spy from. At least she hoped the branch would support her  
weight, it was hard to tell from the ground. Two trees were relatively close  
together, and she braced her body between the trunks, using them both to work  
her way upwards. They fanned away from each other in the middle, but smaller  
branches grew there and she climbed through them like a primate, ignoring the  
scratchy bark as it stung her palms. The branch that lead to the roof bent just  
enough to make her nervous, and she quietly leapt to the safety of the barn  
roof. Looking back over her shoulder, she realized getting down was going to  
take real skill as the branch had returned to its normal position, high above  
the barn. 

She waited for a few minutes to be sure no one noticed the slight thump on the  
roof. A man's scream sounded, and she quickly flipped on her heat source  
finder. The start up whine made her wince, but it probably wouldn't be  
noticeable inside the barn. Sure enough, four warm bodies appeared on the tiny  
screen-reddish blobs that morphed to yellow and green as they moved. One was  
not moving from it's location and Abbie guessed they had tied MacLeod up. Oddly  
enough, the other three were not reading as warm as the Immortal, and for once  
she questioned the accuracy of her equipment. Frowning, she considered-she  
hadn't had it long, and had gotten it from a reliable source. One of the cooler  
blobs moved to the immobile one, and she heard the man's scream again. 

As she watched, the color of the MacLeod blob began to cool and fade, finally  
winking out to a blue haze as his body shut down. Several minutes later, it  
kicked back in again, firing up to a steady blaze of orange, red and yellow.  
Yet another cool blob descended on it and stayed until he winked out again.  
With a compassionate sick feeling in her gut, she realized they were killing  
MacLeod over and over again. She might not have harbored a fat lot of respect  
for the man, but no one deserved this. 

Confident she knew exactly where MacLeod was and what was going on, she  
powered down her finder and unclipped her phone, eager to report to Joe and  
then get the hell off this roof. She had just opened the tiny instrument when a  
movement in the corner of her eye swung her attention over her left shoulder.  
Sitting not four yards from her was a large, cream and grey colored Husky,  
lying on the roof, looking expectantly at her with it's tongue lolling. 

"That is so...random." Scowling, she wondered just how in hell a dog had  
gotten on the roof in the first place until she spotted a small recessed door  
by her foot. It allowed the farmer access to the roof and she figured the dog  
had followed his master up, only to be left stranded when the man had gone back  
down. Still, it was disconcerting to find a large dog on a roof.

She patted her thigh to encourage it to come to her to see if it were  
friendly. It wagged it's tail and trotted towards her, it's coat shimmering and  
stretching in the moonlight. To Abbie's shock, by the time it reached her, it  
had morphed into a wild looking, blonde haired man, complete with long fangs  
and gripping claws. The phone dropped from her numb fingers to clatter  
uselessly onto the rooftop.

"Oh, FUCK!" she screamed, her last mortal words.

* * *

 

Julian still wanted to scream.

Thomas had just phoned him to say that his Gangrel's had checked out Duncan's  
apartment. The man was no where to be found, and there was blood on the floor.  
From their surveillance on the street they had seen another mortal, presumably  
a friend, let himself in, but the man left after a few minutes. Since he didn't  
call the police or otherwise raise an alarm, the Kindred were unsure exactly  
what was going on. The fact that some of Merrick's gang had been seen on the  
street was enough evidence for Julian, and Thomas agreed. Unfortunately, they  
had no idea where Duncan had been taken. Thomas had his Kindred combing all of  
Seacouver, looking for the mortal and reporting where various members of  
Merrick's gang were. So far, Duncan had not turned up.

Julian ground his teeth together in frustration. His mounting tension was  
somewhat alleviated after telling Cash what he suspected about Duncan's true  
nature. The young Gangrel had listened quietly, either because he was  
interested or because he just didn't want to risk pissing off his Prince any  
more than he already was. When Julian had asked him if he believed it, Cash  
had shook his head in wonderment, but then confessed he himself had seen some  
weird things in his life, so he tried not to rule out extreme possibilities.  
Julian then accused him of watching too many episodes of the X Files, which had  
gotten them both smiling, breaking through of the intense feelings that had  
begun to collect around them. In the end, Julian restated their main objective  
was to make sure Duncan was all right, and if not, to remedy that situation  
through rescue or revenge.

Julian rubbed his temple, aggravated that they were stopped at yet another red  
light. "I know he's not in his apartment, but I want to....Cash?"

The young Gangrel was staring out the windshield at a set of three motorcycles  
waiting across the street, mired by the same traffic light. When the lights  
turned green, he followed the bikes with his eyes, not wishing to alert the  
riders that he was watching them. About a block away, he made a casual left,  
spun the car and returned to the street, following the direction the bikes were  
moving in.

"Cash? What the hell are you doing?" Julian's voice held a slight note of  
anger. They were now headed away from Duncan's apartment.

"Julian, Duncan's not at his place, right?"

"No, but I hope to find some evidence-"

Cash snorted. "You're not going to find anything in time. But, see those  
bikes?" Julian squinted, hard pressed to find the flat black motorcycles  
against the dark road if it wasn't for their taillights. "Those are stealth  
bikes. My Clan favors them for riding at night when you'd rather not be seen."

"I can barely see them now."

"That's the idea. There is no chrome or shiny metal anywhere, and they run  
smooth and quiet. Thomas didn't mention his Gangrel were this far out yet, did  
he?" Julian shook his head no. "My guess? Those are Merrick's Kindred. I say we  
follow them."

Julian considered. Cash was right, going to Julian's apartment was merely a  
starting point that would no doubt be fruitless. Thomas' Kindred had already  
been there, and they had no idea where Duncan was. Julian had felt a pounding  
need to do something to find the mortal, and right now Cash's instincts sounded  
like a better idea than rushing to an empty apartment. He nodded brusquely at  
Cash, who tried very hard to keep the feral grin from spreading over too much  
of his face. Cash needed to work off his restless anger at the parties who  
dared upset his Prince, and if he were lucky, he wouldn't have to wait much  
longer.

The San Francisco Kindred followed the black bikes into the countryside. They  
had dropped back far enough to avoid suspicion, but as the lights and traffic  
thinned, it became harder to keep them in sight without alerting them that were  
being followed. Once they had gotten far enough from the main roads, the  
motorcycles all turned off their headlights, using their keen Kindred night  
vision to guide them and making it nearly impossible to follow them. The one  
saving grace had come from one of the riders; she had worn a light blue scarf  
that jumped and fluttered in the wind, acting like a flag. Cash eventually  
turned off their car's lights when they came to a stretch of road with  
absolutely no traffic on it, and trained his wolfish eyes on the dancing scarf.  
The bikes disappeared onto a side road, with several buildings farther up the  
hill. Julian had Cash park the car close to the road so they could proceed on  
foot.

Dewy grass clung to their shoes as they got out of the car, Cash handing  
Julian a large knife he had stashed in the trunk. They scouted the grounds in  
the moonlight, spotting the bikes parked close to the buildings by a line of  
trees, and Cash could make out voices, but they were too far away to make out  
what was said. His nose twitched involuntarily.

"I smell gas. And metal."

Julian watched as the Gangrel zeroed in on a group of bushes not far from  
where they had parked. As quietly as he was able, he parted the scratchy  
branches to reveal yet another motorcycle, only this one was not a stealth bike  
and it carried a female mortal's lingering scent. He shrugged at Julian, who  
dismissed it anyway, his Prince more focused on reaching those buildings.

"Cash, we need to take a look." Cash nodded. "We'll go in quiet. I trust your  
hunch about the bikes, but if these aren't Kindred, I don't want to alarm any  
mortals. We have enough on our hands without raising police suspicion." 

Cash agreed, stepping close to his Prince's side. "You want me to go alone?"

"No. If they are Kindred, I want to be there." Cash nearly shivered at the  
death he heard in his Prince's voice. He knew Julian's temper, he had seen it  
before, and he was very glad it was not directed at him, for it was a terrible  
and final sort of thing. Polaris, the dog star, hung in the night sky like a  
beacon over the buildings and the two Kindred shifted to their wolf forms to  
cover the distance quickly.

A slight breeze was blowing as they ran, and Julian filled his nose with the  
perfume of the night. As they got closer his keen sense of smell caught  
Duncan's scent coming from the barn, and he angled himself towards that  
structure. Cash followed without question, and Julian wondered if the young  
Gangrel had tagged the scent from him after he had spent the night with the  
man. As they came up near the side of the barn, Julian heard a man's voice from  
inside and he knew at once it was Duncan, and that sound of fear ignited the  
blood coursing through his veins. One Gangrel had just come around the corner  
to patrol the area and Julian never slowed, knocking him down and tearing at  
his throat with such fury the man had no breath with which to summon help. One  
small part of Julian's rational mind suppressed the urge to growl furiously; he  
didn't want to endanger Duncan. 

Cash swept past him, rounding to the other side of the barn and tackling the  
remaining guard. He too went for the neck, eager to disable his target without  
alerting any others, and savagely aroused by the blood and fear smell coming  
from under the barn door. The Gangrel guard struggled to reach a weapon in his  
coat, but Julian was already there, shifted back into his Ventrue form, and  
severing his head with the large knife he carried. Julian straightened and  
stalked quietly to the barn door. He motioned for Cash to stay outside and  
cover him, then quietly swung the wooden door wide enough to slip in. There was  
a light set on a wooden crate in the middle of the barn and it took Julian a  
precious second for his eyes to adjust. When they did, the sight that greeted  
him nearly drove him mad.

Duncan, his precious, sweet Duncan, was lying on his side sandwiched between  
two metal grates. What little mind Julian had left recognized it as a ranchers  
tool to keep livestock still while administering injections or branding them.  
The bars squeezed together, trapping the animal so that it did not hurt itself,  
but space between bars allowed the farmer easy access to the animal's body. In  
a sick parody of this humane technique, Duncan lay immobile, his hands chained  
to various bars and his head hanging out. He was struggling feebly to shrink  
from his tormentor. Another Gangrel was kneeling by Duncan, slowly slicing his  
ribcage with the man's own Japanese sword, coating his hand with the gore and  
bringing it to his lips, licking it off and humming to himself. He hadn't  
noticed Julian yet, having assumed it was one of his gang who had come back in  
for some more fun with their new treat.

A savage snarl was the only warning the Gangrel got before his left arm was  
jerked violently, separating it from the shoulder joint. He howled with the  
unexpected pain, but quickly morphed it into a menacing growl when he got a  
look at his assailant. Julian was a vision of pure rage, his blood running  
fever hot from seeing his mate trussed and tortured. The other Kindred  
recovered his wits and realized he still held the katana in his hand, and  
lunged at Julian. 

While the Ventrue Prince would normally have been able to overpower the  
younger, less experienced Gangrel without suffering damage, the blood he had  
taken from Duncan was still present in his veins, and it gave him a deadly  
edge. He sidestepped the sword point easily, chopping down on the back of the  
Gangrel's neck as his attacker stumbled by him. The blow had stunned him, but  
the Gangrel clung to his consciousness and the sword, bringing it around to  
keep Julian at it's business end. But Julian was already there, snapping his  
wrist and causing him to release the sword. Julian grabbed the hilt and batted  
the dragon's head into the Gangrel's face, forcing his head back and exposing  
the vulnerable neck. A shift of the shining blade and Julian had neatly severed  
the head, which tumbled away into some hay. A quick scan of the rest of the  
barn told him there were no more Kindred, and his silver eyes finally rested on  
the bleeding man on the floor. Julian's breath left him as he caught Duncan's  
wary gaze.

"Duncan..."

Duncan looked at him, a blur of emotion playing out behind his eyes. He now  
knew that Julian was not entirely human, and why the man had been so strong.  
Worst of all, he knew why he had died on their last night together. He  
swallowed, never taking his intense scrutiny from Julian, and couldn't help  
flinching when the Kindred stepped towards him. "Don't..."

Julian seemed to cave in on himself, and his features softened with misery.  
"Duncan, you don't have to be afraid of me, I would never-"

"You killed me!" Duncan accused.

Julian cast his eyes down, unable to look at the betrayal twisting Duncan's  
sweet face. He had known it wouldn't be easy to explain this, but he had hoped  
to at least have the chance to try. Considering all Duncan had just been  
through, he was perhaps expecting too much. "Duncan, please believe me. I  
never, ever meant to harm you." He returned his gaze upwards, wishing he could  
shut himself off as best he could from the hurt that was coming, and knowing he  
didn't deserve the reprieve.

"But you did. You drained my blood. You're like the others." Duncan's voice  
was low and trembled with emotion, and a traitorous part of his heart was  
saddened to see his former lover look so miserable, bringing equally traitorous  
moisture to his eyes.

Julian put down the katana and knelt before Duncan, desperate to regain the  
man's trust enough to allow him to free his bonds. "I am like them in that I am  
the same kind, yes. We are called Kindred. But I am not like them. What  
happened with you was an accident, one which I know you can never forgive me  
for." Blood tears washed over his own eyes and he blinked rapidly to keep them  
at bay. "I never meant to harm you, and I never will. But your blood did  
something to me, something that I've never experienced before."

"My own blood made you kill me." Duncan's voice was more even now, the  
disbelief evident.

Julian sighed in frustration; they really didn't have time for this. "I wanted  
to feel you, my mouth on you. But what I started in passion, I couldn't stop. I  
have never, ever done that. To anyone. I won't harm you Duncan, please believe  
me enough to let me help you get out of here." He reached for the chain holding  
Duncan's hands and scowled when the man flinched away from him. Against his  
wishes the blood tears fell over his cheeks. The mistrust and pain in Duncan's  
eyes hurt his heart terribly and his voice wavered. 

"Duncan, please! I can never hurt you. I need to get you away from these  
Kindred, they'll go on killing you and I won't be able to stop them." Without  
Duncan's consent, he grasped the linked metal and began to manhandle the  
catches, continuing to talk to try and calm both Duncan and himself. "I went  
out of my mind when I saw what I had done to you. I've never felt anything that  
hurt so much. I can't ever change what happened, but I don't want to see you  
suffer any more." He finally succeeded in releasing Duncan's hands. "I'm sorry  
for dragging you into my world, for making you live through this." He pulled  
the two halves of the cage apart, the metal groaning slightly. His limbs cold  
and somewhat numb, Duncan was awkward trying to get out and Julian grasped him  
around the torso, freeing him and dragging him into his arms. He sat on the  
floor and held him close in a stolen embrace, his tears soaking into Duncan's  
soft hair as he gently rocked him, whispering close to an ear. "I'm so sorry. I  
still love you."

Duncan had instinctively wrapped his arms around his rescuer, thinking about  
what Julian had said. Given Julian's bizarre nature, it was possible he was  
telling the truth. Immortal blood was perhaps different enough to cause an  
unexpected reaction, one which Julian seemed to highly regret. His captors had  
drained him a number of times already, but then again, they had no reason to  
stop. "Is this why you couldn't see me anymore? Because of what you are?"

Julian squeezed him tighter, and nodded. "I will never harm you, but I was  
afraid another Kindred might. I had to protect you, and that was the only way I  
could think of."

Duncan pushed himself away slightly, enough to look at Julian's blood streaked  
face. "You have to make them stop. I'm not-"

"Duncan," Julian interrupted softly, a hand caressing the man's shadowed  
cheek, "I can't tell them anything. They are a different Clan altogether, and  
my authority doesn't mean anything to them. If they find me here, they will  
tear me apart and enslave you again. I have to get you away." He pulled Duncan  
back into his embrace, needing to feel the warm weight against his body. 

Methos resisted muttering to himself as he snuck towards the tree line. The  
element of surprise would be nice, but he actually preferred the element of  
'never being seen at all.' He had found the old service road on the northern  
end of the property and left his car there, proceeding on foot with his Ivanhoe  
firmly in his grasp. He had made it up to the mansion and was creeping around  
it's foundation when he spotted some activity by the barn. Peering around the  
side, he saw a young man in the moonlight, and he was dragging away a headless  
body. Methos' eyes flew wide, then he pulled back to the relative safety of the  
mansion wall. He swallowed hard, re-directing his emotions as he had hundreds  
of times. If Duncan had been bested, there was little he could do about it. He  
took a deep breath, then realized he had seen no Quickening. If a warrior like  
MacLeod had lost his head, Methos would have seen the light show from the road.  
That brought a sense of relief he would never, ever admit to MacLeod, and he  
risked another peek at what was happening in front of the barn.

The young man was now busy loading the body into a dark van. Methos bit his  
lip, weighing his options. A slight movement brought his attention towards the  
trees and bushes at back of the barn and he wondered if it could be the  
resourceful Scot. It would be just like MacLeod to escape just as Methos had  
come to rescue him, thus partially negating his score in the grisly game they  
played. Glancing back, Methos saw that the young man was inside the van now and  
took off for the back of the barn like a rabbit. He gained the safety of the  
large structure, and since nothing came charging at him from the front, he  
assumed he had not been noticed. The movement that had interested him was now  
right in front of him and stepped from the shadows into moonlight, revealing it  
to be a man.

Methos scowled, the man was not MacLeod, and worse-he was not human. Stringy,  
wild blonde hair partially covered silver tinted eyes, and there were  
flesh-tearing claws on both hands. Methos gripped his sword, keeping the barn  
to his vulnerable back. The being hissed and spat at him, but it's movements  
were jerky and it clutched at it's chest. Methos flicked his eyes down and saw  
a shiny, round ball of metal at the sternum. With delight, Methos realized that  
it was the pummel of a decent sized personal blade, imbedded firmly and  
squarely in the chest. The man stumbled slightly and that was all the opening  
Methos needed. With quiet savagery he gutted the man, then sliced through the  
neck when it was presented to him. Out of habit Methos waited a beat for the  
electric pulse and sizzle of a Quickening, but thankfully none came. 

He looked around to see if his actions had drawn any attention. All was quiet,  
but he could not get rid of the feeling that he was being watched and assessed.  
Large trees by the barn hid a huge area in shadow, and although he couldn't  
make out anything discernable, he hadn't survived five thousand years by  
arguing with his instincts. There was a large door near the middle of the barn  
and he sprinted for it, willing to hide there while he calculated his next  
move. Without looking back, a rustling of bushes accompanied his flight as he  
ran for the door like a madman, certain he was in grave danger.

Inside the barn, Duncan felt the tug of his emotions polarizing in himself. He  
could tell by the look in Julian's eye and the sound of his voice that he was  
indeed scared. If he was tricking Duncan into trusting him, he was saying all  
the right things. And as for breaking things off with him, Julian's logic  
sounded suspiciously like the voice that nagged in Duncan's head about putting  
his friends in danger all the time. After he had taken O'Rourke's head, he had  
disappeared for a while, not able to deal with the life threatening situations  
his loved ones found themselves in because of him. He pulled back to stare  
Julian in the eyes again, ignoring the instinctive roll of his stomach at the  
blood leaking across the handsome face. Julian's lips trembled slightly, though  
he tried desperately to keep them still. Julian had never lied to him, he had  
kept his secret of what he was just as Duncan himself had never told Julian of  
his true nature. Duncan gently touched the lips he had tasted and loved not so  
long ago.

"You're risking yourself by being here. For me."

Julian released his tight hold on Duncan, trying to convince the man with his  
eyes. "I'm not asking you to love me back, Duncan. But I want you to be safe, I  
need-" Just then the barn door opened slightly and Cash slipped in, shutting it  
firmly behind him and latching it. Julian helped Duncan to his feet and felt  
the man tense.

"It's okay Duncan, this is Cash. He's a trusted friend." The young man spared  
Duncan a look before his gaze swept back towards Julian.

"Julian, three more bikes just pulled up, and there are about five Gangrel's  
headed for the barn."

Julian swore. "Duncan, you can walk?"

The Highlander nodded. "On my hands if I have to." Now that he was free, there  
was no way he was going to get caught again. He wasn't sure he could endure  
much more of these Kindred feeding off of him. Julian smiled, pleased with  
Duncan's renewed spirit and the small measure of trust he seemed to be granting  
himself and Cash.

"Let's go out the back, it'll give us a head start. I have no desire to face a  
mob of Gangrel." The three took two steps towards the back before the door  
burst open and a lean figure in a dark trench coat came flying in, whipping  
around to throw the heavy wooden latch across. Satisfied for the moment, the  
figure turned towards the group, his sword at the ready and his expression  
wary. 

Julian stared, his mouth flying open in complete shock. The hair was shorter,  
but the eyes were the same, the structure of the face still held a haunted  
beauty. And there was certainly no doubt about that nose. He could hardly  
believe it but, there before him was the man from Daedalus' myth book, the  
Undying figure in the blood sketch!

Duncan seemed only mildly surprised. "Methos!" 

For the space of a moment, Methos only had eyes for Duncan. The Highlander was  
bloodied and filthy, but he was still in possession of his head and all of his  
limbs. He looked pale and was half leaning on the dark haired man next to him,  
but he was mobile and lucid; they could work with that. Lowering his sword,  
Methos flicked his eyes at the men gawking at him and decided by MacLeod's  
posture that the two standing next to the Immortal were no threat. He spared  
Duncan a brief nod, as if this scenario were not all that bizarre to him.  
"MacLeod." Blade still in hand, he strode over the headless body between them  
towards the door at the front of the barn, but his arm was caught swiftly by  
the scruffy looking young man.

"Wait! You can't go out that way." Methos narrowed his eyes, finally  
recognizing this as the young man he had seen removing the headless body at the  
front of the building. "They're coming. We have to go out the back way."

Methos turned. "Well there's something rather nasty headed from that direction  
too."

Julian swore softly. "We're surrounded." Sure enough, a voice called out from  
the other side of the front door, the Gangrel obviously looking for his missing  
guards and signaling the others. All four looked about for a second before  
Methos' pointed at the wall.

"Up there!"

They scurried over to the ladder that lead up to the hay filled loft just as  
the barn's front door began to groan and splinter from the pressure being  
applied to it from several pissed off Gangrels on the other side. The barn was  
a good sized structure and the ladder appeared to be the only way to get up  
onto the loft. Methos assessed their ability to defend their position and threw  
Duncan a questioning look. "Your sword?"

In his weakened state and with everything happening so fast, Duncan had  
completely forgotten it, and peered over the edge of the loft to where it lay  
on the floor below. "Oh shit..."

"I'll get it!" Cash, who had been bringing up the rear, impulsively dashed  
back down the ladder.

Julian whirled, fear evident on his face. "Cash, no!"

Cash jumped the last rungs of the ladder and dove for the blade as the barn  
door gave way. With Kindred grace, he rolled expertly and gained his feet,  
sprinting for the ladder as the incoming Gangrel faltered at the collapsed pile  
of wood that had recently been the door. He nimbly ascended and gained the  
loft, earning him a glare from Julian, an appreciative look from Methos, and  
relieved gratitude from Duncan, who felt more secure now with his beloved  
katana in his hands. Methos decided their assailants were too dangerous to  
leave the ladder intact and began hacking at it with his Ivanhoe, but there was  
no way he was going to get through it in time to stop the Kindred streaming  
into the barn.

"Here, let us." Julian gently moved him aside and he and Cash pulled on the  
ladder, snapping the heavy wood and cutting off the only way up. Cash retained  
a sizable piece, hefting it like a club, as he watched the remains of the  
ladder rain down on the snarling Gangrel below. One energetic individual began  
to leap, trying to gain the loft, but Cash's swinging club and two menacing  
blades prompted him to give up. They were lucky the Kindred were fairly young,  
otherwise they might have had enough power to make the jump, and the Gangrel  
who had taken Duncan's blood were all dead. The incoming gang members inspected  
the body of their fallen comrade, snarling and snapping their grief and  
displeasure. One of them spotted Julian and growled loudly.

"I should have known Ventrue scum would come to kill us and steal our goods."

Julian was this side of furious. "He is not your 'goods'! He is a human being  
under the protection of Thomas Grendel, your *Prince.*" Julian emphasized the  
last word, hoping it would at least make the gang stop and consider the  
consequences. While some of them looked at each other for reassurance, the one  
who had spoken was not cowed.

"Our 'Prince' is an impotent city slicker who served as *your* lapdog. He  
should have stayed at home to lick your boots and let an Alpha take charge!"  
Snarls of agreement were voiced. Obviously Merrick's gang were planning a coup  
much sooner than Thomas had anticipated. "It will be my honor to turn you over  
to *our* Prince when he comes. Then you will see only Gangrel are fit to lead  
the pack! Merrick will cut off your head and roast it in fire!" This scenario  
seemed to have a lot of appeal to the young Gangrel and they snickered and  
howled, mocking the San Francisco Kindred. Two Gangrel gently hefted the body  
of their fallen comrade and all but one left the barn. Wise now to the number  
they needed to watch, they posted themselves around the structure to make sure  
their quarry did not escape. Obviously they were not to make any moves until  
Oscar Merrick showed up.

Julian growled softly in his throat at their increasingly desperate situation.  
He turned to see how Duncan was doing and was surprised to see the new man,  
Methos, edging backward with Duncan behind him, his sword pointed menacingly at  
the two Kindred. There was a light of maniacal anger in his eyes, as well as a  
small dose of fear. Julian straightened, looking to Duncan for explanations,  
but the Scot seemed puzzled by his friends actions as well.

Methos slowly shook his head at the Kindred, his voice a controlled hiss. "I  
know what you *are.*

Julian appealed to Duncan with his eyes, unsure if the man's trust would hold  
up under this. The two men were going to need the Kindred's help if they hoped  
to leave this place and none of them were going to get anywhere if they fought  
amongst themselves. The look in Duncan's eyes told him all he needed to know  
and Julian struggled to keep from smiling like a fool. The Highlander laid a  
calming hand on his friend's shoulder. "Methos, it's okay. This is my friend,  
Julian Luna."

Methos' eyes widened briefly, recognizing the name from Joe, who had told him  
about MacLeod's new and interesting choice of date. He never lowered his sword,  
but he turned to scold Duncan, his voice rising steadily. "Bloody HELL MacLeod!  
Leave it to you to be the only Immortal who has a vampire for a BOYFRIEND!"

Duncan retreated slightly from the harsh tone, but recovered enough to defend  
himself. "I didn't know what he was anymore than you did when you first saw  
him. Besides, he set me free. He's here to help."

Methos sneered at the naive Immortal. "Help? You...you really are prat, aren't  
you?" Julian moved closer to the two men, only to have Methos snap back to  
alertness and raise his sword point. Without flinching, the Kindred fixed  
Methos with an open stare.

"It's true, we mean you no harm."

Methos snorted. "Right. I'm to believe that your going to risk your life to  
help us get out of here alive."

Julian's gaze never wavered. "No, I'm not." His statement made Methos  
hesitate; clearly it was not what he had expected the Kindred to say. Julian  
pointed behind Methos. "I'm going to risk my life to make sure *he* gets out of  
here alive. *That's* my objective. If you happen to be with him when it  
happens, that's fine, but you are not my main concern." 

This made Methos blink. He had expected lies and grand promises, yet the  
Kindred's tone and level gaze looked suspiciously like honesty. Cash looked at  
his Prince with admiring respect, and the two Kindred turned their backs and  
started looking at the loft windows, making sure their position was secure. The  
elder Immortal risked a glance at Duncan, who was scowling at him.

"Oh come on, MacLeod. In ancient times, I spent years being a prisoner of  
these leeches. They look at us as *food,* nothing more."

"They may have changed." Methos scoffed, amazed at how thick and stubborn  
MacLeod could be, wondering yet again how the big guy had managed not to die in  
four hundred years. Duncan pressed his lips into a thin line, hating to play  
his trump card, but knowing it had to be done. "You changed. You said it  
yourself Methos, it was a different world then, maybe you're not the only one  
who is capable of change. I've been with Julian, if he had wanted to keep me as  
a prisoner, he could have done so many times. He and Cash have already risked  
their lives in coming here, they could have left me chained down there and run  
for the hills. But they didn't. I do trust Julian, and besides, we're going to  
need them to get the hell out of here." He let that sink in, striding over to  
help the Kindred make defense plans and to show his solidarity for Julian. 

Methos finally lowered his heavy sword, letting out a sigh and catching the  
eye of the Gangrel guard below. His first instinct was to regret showing the  
young Kindred that there was mistrust within their group, but he also knew he  
could use that to their advantage. The vampires below would be expecting their  
prey to abandon each other under duress, and could be outmaneuvered if they  
stuck together.

He glanced back at the small group of three trying to form a plan, noticing  
Julian had a hand on Duncan's lower back, rubbing reassuringly. These vampires  
were indeed different from those who had caged him and tore at his flesh,  
delighting in his howls of pain and pleas for death. They valued thought,  
acting more like people than the savage, mindless beasts he remembered. There  
was a part of Methos that was feeling very hurt that Duncan was forgiving  
Julian's nature so readily when he himself had had to go through a few years of  
the Highlander's cool reception after the fiasco of the Horsemen. Methos  
swallowed hard against the memories and weighed MacLeod's words. Perhaps the  
child was right. Considering their situation, if they didn't have the strength  
and insight of the two vampires, there was no way he and MacLeod were going to  
be able to leave this barn as free beings. In fact, he was beginning to  
question how they were going to make it at all. Besides themselves, there were  
only two of MacLeod's friends, and apparently there were more vampires on the  
way. Running a hand nervously through his hair, he decided he had little to  
lose in placing some faith in the Kindred. He could always put them to the  
sword once he and MacLeod were out of danger.

Cash passed Methos on his way to the opposite wall, checking to see if the  
window could be accessed from the ground. He smiled reassuringly at the  
Immortal as he passed, earning him an arched eyebrow from the elder man. Methos  
watched the young man with undisguised curiosity. Like his own kind, there was  
no real way to tell his age, even if his outward appearance was that of a young  
punk. MacLeod and Julian had just approached his side when Cash let out a low  
groan. 

"Cash?"

The young Gangrel swore under his breath. "Julian, about ten more bikes just  
pulled up and there's more lights coming up the road." He looked at his Prince  
with troubled eyes. "There's a lot more here than I expected." 

Julian bit his lips in distress. Five or six young and inexperienced Gangrel  
they could handle, but they were fast becoming outnumbered. One plan had been  
to drop to the floor and take on their young captors, but with a mob, their  
chances dimmed considerably. He swallowed hard, looking to Cash for his  
judgment of their situation. Cash shook his head slowly. They were not going to  
make it. Their silent communication was not lost on the two Immortals, and  
Duncan placed a hand on Julian's chest, keeping his voice low so the guard  
below them could not overhear.

"How many can you handle?"

Julian grasped the large hand at his breast, grateful for the touch. "With  
your blood? More than I could before. But even I have limits." Methos' scowl  
was spectacular, but was lost as Duncan was focused on Julian. Cash's boots  
shifted nervously in the hay, needing to speak the naked truth.

"That's not going to help much. Gangrel attack in pack formation, they'll  
overcome us in shear numbers. It's how they fight." He looked down at the floor  
of the barn, calculating the distance to their position. "We can't defend the  
entire length of the loft. They'll find a way up here..." His voice trailed  
off, unsure how else to tell his Prince they would most likely fail. "I'm  
sorry, Julian."

Stunned by his Primogen's assessment, Julian never let Duncan's hand go, and  
spent several minutes trying to shift events in their favor, but kept coming up  
short every time. He knew Cash was right, and the Gangrel would not only be  
driven by their need to strike a blow to Grendel's power by attacking Julian,  
they would be lusting for the blood of the Kindred who had slain the three  
members of their pack. Adding the Undying man into the mix was only an added  
bonus. They couldn't keep Merrick's gang out of the loft forever, and if they  
jumped down, the Kindred below would tear them apart. Dragging a hand through  
his hair, his eyes caught on Duncan's troubled face. Julian slowly pulled the  
man to him in a desperate embrace to both reassure and beg forgiveness.

"Duncan...I am so sorry. This was everything I was trying to keep you safe  
from. I never should have gotten you involved..." He buried his face in  
Duncan's generous shoulder, his voice muffled as he tried to express his  
sincere regret for ever coming into the Highlander's life. Duncan held him  
tight, running his hands over the trembling back, making soothing noises.

"No, no...don't say that Julian. The time I spent with you was more amazing  
than I've ever dreamed." He pulled away to stare the distraught Kindred in the  
eyes. "I know you love me, and how hard you tried." He kissed Julian's lips  
tenderly and rested his forehead against the other man's. "And we'll not go out  
without a fight. We have you and Cash, and Methos and I are good with a sword.  
Who knows what can happen?" Julian tugged him back into his arms again, rocking  
the man slowly. A small part of his mind wanted to ask why Duncan and Methos  
were both carrying swords, but decided he'd rather just hear Duncan's innocent  
beliefs that they had a chance. The man nuzzled close to his ear and softly  
spoke the one thing Julian had longed to hear before either of them were no  
more. "I do love you, Julian." Julian swallowed around the tear in his heart.  
To know Duncan loved him would ease the pain that was to come, but he was still  
fraught with the knowledge that, should Duncan even survive this night, he  
would be imprisoned again for his Undying blood. No one would be left alive who  
even knew he existed, no one could help him.

Cash sighed and turned away, giving the two lovers the illusion of privacy.  
Merrick's Gangrel were meeting inside the main house, but it wouldn't be long  
before they stormed the barn. While Duncan seemed positive about their ability  
to fight them, Cash knew first hand how bloody and unrelenting his Clan of  
Kindred were going to be. Their deaths were not going to be easy ones. Pursing  
his lips, he sent a quiet good-bye towards the stars overhead, thinking of  
Sasha one last time, before his arm was snagged by a strong hand and he was  
bodily yanked behind a tall stand of hay bales. Startled, he bared his teeth at  
Methos as his body fetched up against the dark haired man, a steady sword point  
aimed under his chin.

"What the fu-"

"Hush." They were almost completely hidden from Julian and Duncan's view, and  
Methos poked his head out briefly to make sure the two were still occupied with  
each other. He snorted in disgust and pulled Cash back further between square  
bales that reached clear over their heads. Cash shoved the sword away from his  
neck, but Methos seemed not to notice as he narrowed his eyes and began to  
whisper to him. "Unlike my colleague, I'm not one for melodrama and have a  
strong sense of preservation. Julian mentioned he was stronger because he had  
Mac's blood. What did he mean by that?"

Cash shifted, noticing Methos never eased his grip on his arm, and met the  
intense and sparking eyes. "Julian drank Duncan's blood. It made him faster,  
stronger somehow. We can't explain it, but it has something to do with Duncan  
being unable to die." 

Methos seemed to consider this, not at all shocked by the idea. His eyes raked  
over Cash in frank assessment, the young man fighting the urge to shift  
nervously. "Would the same thing happen to you? If you had Immortal blood,  
would you be stronger?"

Cash considered. "Well, yeah, I assume so. But Duncan's still somewhat weak  
from having the others drain him, he won't be up to carrying his sword, much  
less fighting with it if I take more blood."

Methos took several steadying breaths, his grip on Cash's coat twisting  
tighter. "You won't be taking his blood. You'll be taking mine."


	5. Merrick

Cash's eyes widened slightly, feeling the slight tremble beginning in the  
other man. Methos' mouth was set in fierce determination, fighting his own  
instincts. The young Gangrel started to shake his head, but Methos tugged  
sharply at the leather material in his fist. "I'm not crazy about this idea but  
I'm somewhat fixated on living, so if it tips the scales in our favor..." His  
eyes bore into Cash's. If the young vampire argued with him, he was going to  
gut him with his sword. To his relief and simultaneous apprehension, Cash  
finally nodded, seeing the wisdom in Methos' idea and unconsciously bowing his  
head to the other's stronger will. Methos slammed his sword, point first, into  
a nearby stack of hay, feeling suddenly bereft without it's solid weight in his  
hand.

Cash stole a glance at Duncan and his Prince, hearing the two whispering to  
each other but unable to make out what they were saying. He looked back at  
Methos, watching as the other man began to roll up his sleeve to offer his pale  
arm, and could tell by the tension in the spare body that this was costing  
Methos a great deal. He laid a hand gently over the wrist, stopping the motion.

"Wait. It doesn't have to be like that..." Cash moved a step closer to  
Methos, his hand coming up to stroke Methos' jaw and around his generous ear.  
Methos was watching him like a nervous charger, his senses alert and wary. The  
greenish eyes narrowed at the young Kindred at first, but Cash wrapped his  
other arm around the man's waist just as Methos grabbed his hips and slammed  
his body tight against his own, his expression one of challenge. Cash gasped  
slightly, awed by the man's courage, and pressed himself between the flaps of  
Methos' coat. The warmth was welcome and he bent his head to run soft lips over  
Methos' delicate skin just under the ear, causing minor quakes along the length  
of his body. 

Muscles jumped and twitched in the strong thighs entwined between Cash's legs  
and he felt hands tentatively slide over his shoulders to clasp his back.  
Methos swallowed hard, drawing Cash's attention to his neck and prompting him  
to nuzzle the fragrant skin with his nose and lips. Methos let out a ragged  
breath and Cash cradled him gently, guessing that Methos had known only  
violence from whatever Kindred he had met up with in his life. It made Cash  
even more determined to make this as painless as he could for Methos. Cash  
smothered Methos''s pulse point in a breathy kiss, feeling the man in his arms  
respond. He let his tongue roam freely over the creamy skin while he  
experimentally shifted his hips to press against Methos' groin. The man cut off  
a groan just in time, and Cash felt his whole body being rubbed back. 

Methos himself was shocked at his own responses, unsure if his enjoyment of  
Cash's sensuous nibbles was a good idea or not. He had committed himself to  
this course of action, believing it may give them a margin of success, but he  
had held no illusions that he would like it. A half minute ago he would have  
congratulated himself on just being able to hold still while the young man fed  
on him, but now he was anticipating the stinging pain with a small amount of  
impatience. 

It *had* been a frightfully long time since anyone had held him in their arms,  
and he hadn't allowed himself to notice the lack of simple animal closeness.  
Joe was always good for an arm squeeze and MacLeod had progressed to the point  
of offering Methos friendly pats on the back, but the young man in his arms was  
touching him in places that started begging for more. He tried focusing on the  
fact that his sworn enemy was at his throat, but the implied danger only seemed  
to make his blood pound. He was unable to stifle the gasp as Cash lifted him  
slightly off the ground, hand firmly clutching his ass as sharp fangs dug  
points of pain into his neck. He threw his head back, feeling his cock swell as  
a smooth tongue began to swirl in the wetness on his skin, mimicking the slow  
twirl of hips against his own. 

For Cash, this experience was going down as one of the most intense he had  
ever had in his long life. He had found himself encouraged by Methos' response  
to him when he had taken the man in his arms, and allowed himself a small  
amount of pride when he realized Methos was fighting the urge to groan under  
the assault. He had wanted to make the Undying man forget what he was doing,  
forget that he should hate and fear what had always been an intimate exchange  
to Cash. 

Kissing and stroking hadn't been a hardship for Cash anyway, Methos was a good  
looking guy in a lot of ways. That long, supple neck called to the Kindred,  
just begging for hot kisses and hungry fangs. His big eyes shifted from  
welcoming dark to piercing in the space of moments, depending on the light and  
his mood, and the angular face and pale skin set off the redness of his lips  
when they weren't pressed into a tight line. Cash had decided he wanted to  
taste them, just once, when all this mess was over. Providing they got the  
chance, of course. And while the man hid his body in loose fitting clothing,  
once Cash had gotten his arms around him, he discovered Methos was a well  
developed man, broad shouldered and sleek muscled, and begging to be touched.  
Cash gathered Methos into his arms, taking most of his weight into his embrace,  
and penetrated Methos with his mouth.

Brilliant heat fountained from the wound, hurried along by the heightened  
pressure in the body trembling in Cash's arms. One swallow and Cash was lost.  
The blood was like honey to a starving man, rich and whole and seemingly alive.  
He swallowed, gulping pure light, and feeling the red liquid settle into dark  
and lonely places in his own body, transforming him. He grasped Methos tighter,  
reveling in the gasp against his ear, the intimate sound diving down along with  
the blood until it hit his cock, the sound and the blood swelling and filling  
him and making him grind his groin against the hot body he held. More blood  
flowed, not quite as swift, and Cash wanted to be inside Methos, to bury  
himself in the intense heat in the ass and veins inside. Strong hands gripped  
his body, twin points of heat and desire that opened and closed repeatedly as  
their owner writhed, never once pushing him away, only clasping him closer. A  
small part of Cash's mind was standing in wonder at all this, amazed that  
Julian had been allowed to experience this without cease and that, for some  
reason he couldn't remember, he was going to be denied the full measure. The  
thundering of the heart next to his own was making too much noise and the wet  
sound was drowning out anything his mind was trying to tell him, even  
overpowering the odd, frantic noises behind him. The blood was sex and  
salvation and so, *so* good!

There was pain suddenly at the back of his head, and Cash had trouble figuring  
out why. Then the commanding voice of his Prince finally made its way through  
the fog, and reality snapped back into focus. Julian had a hand wound painfully  
tight in the hair at the back of his head, encouraging him to pull away from  
the long column of throat that was the source of pleasure for Cash. Part of the  
young Gangrel wanted to fight, to growl and warn others away from his sensuous  
feast, this willing man who's very blood sang "life, all for you" in his veins,  
but Kindred instincts prevailed and he gently removed his teeth from the  
yielded flesh. He lapped quickly, sealing the wound and cleaning the gore from  
it's milky surface, fairly humming from the joy and life pumping through his  
frame. His tongue bath finished, he spent a moment softly kissing the warm  
skin, feeling the life still contained there, vibrating gently under his lips.  
He was still marginally hard, like the beautiful man whom he cradled against  
his chest, the man whose name he finally remembered as Methos. He whispered the  
name against the skin, pitched only for its owners hearing, and smiled as the  
pale expanse goose fleshed under his lips. He straightened slightly, assisting  
Methos to his feet, helped by Duncan who was on the other side. Cash allowed  
himself one last sigh of satisfaction and turned his head towards his Prince to  
face his wrath. Julian's face was dark as thunderous sky, but he was staring  
fixedly at Methos, and Cash finally picked up the thread of conversation.

"...last time, it was my idea. If we can boost Cash's abilities, it might be  
all the advantage we need." He faltered then, his anger at MacLeod's  
protectiveness giving way to fatigue. "I'll recover, just give me a minute."

Duncan decided not to waste Methos' energy with argument, giving in so rapidly  
that Methos looked at him in shock. "Well, you could have let us in on what you  
were doing. He wouldn't have been able to stop on his own, you know."

Methos stood under his own power and brought himself up to his full height. "I  
knew you two would notice us once you left off snogging." Duncan and Julian  
both blushed furiously, but said nothing. Methos attempted a step, swaying  
awkwardly until Duncan's arm shot out to steady him.

"Are you going to be all right?" 

Methos resisted the urge to roll his eyes, only because he was afraid it would  
make him lose his balance. "You'll have to excuse me. I usually get a lollipop  
after I give blood." He winked wickedly at Cash, who smiled back before he  
could stop himself. Julian sighed, still obviously unhappy with his Primogen's  
decision to go along with this plan, but Cash just gave a half hearted shrug.  
Julian understood it all too well; they were most likely dead men anyway.

Julian leaned close to Cash and whispered instructions to him in lieu of  
criticism. "He's your responsibility now. You will do all you can to get him  
out of here alive." Cash swallowed and nodded, shouldering Methos' life without  
question. As it was, the blood surging through him was so strong, he felt he  
could take on Merrick's entire gang. He knew this to be foolishness though, and  
trusted Julian to keep him from doing utterly foolish things. He glanced at  
Duncan, wearing his own dark expression, but Cash could not tell who the man  
was more furious with, himself or Methos. He about to speak when he heard  
voices outside and he dashed to the window. The moonlight revealed two dozen  
Kindred headed for the barn.

Seconds later, a mob of Gangrel entered, one individual standing out from his  
peers by shear height and bearing. Over six foot tall and crowned with jet  
black hair over sky blue eyes, Oscar Merrick was as beautiful as he was  
imposing. Julian strode to the edge of the loft and looked at him in stony  
silence, seeing him first as mortals would, noting the chiseled face and silken  
hair, broad shoulders and generous hands. His clothing was simple, black jeans  
and leather jacket, red and black plaid shirt. Coming across him in the woods,  
he would appear to be a mountain man; large and fierce on the outside with a  
gentle nature and an honest heart inside. But Julian knew how deceiving looks  
were for Kindred and the light in Merrick's eyes bespoke a killers  
determination. While his Gangrel pack were disheveled and inexperienced,  
Merrick had all the earmarks of a future Prince. If he managed to overthrow  
Thomas Grendel, Julian had no doubt Merrick would rule Seacouver and the  
surrounding area for many, many decades. Unhappily, Julian and his tiny band  
were to play their part in this takeover, and although Julian would have given  
much to see Merrick and Grendel fight for dominance, he had no illusions he  
would be around to witness it.

Merrick's eyes never left Julian's, he thought the others no importance  
whatsoever. When he spoke, his voice was a knife-edged purr. "Luna. You have  
killed three of my childe."

Julian knew better than to show throat to this one. "They broke the law.  
They-"

Merrick roared. "I am the Law!" The sound reverberated off the old wood of the  
barn walls and soaked into the hay and cobwebs that lined the structure. Duncan  
jumped slightly, waiting for the inevitable despot syndrome to surface. Merrick  
was in a position to show his strength and leadership qualities to his  
followers and whatever he decided would most likely be rather fatal to those  
whom Duncan held dear. 

Julian kept his rage in check, but it was a very near thing. "You are not yet  
Prince, Merrick. The day you can take Thomas Grendel's' throat, then your word  
will be law."

Merrick only smiled a sickly, demented expression up at Julian, his eyes  
calculatingly bright. "As the Toreador say, I can open two veins with one  
tooth. Your demise will bring him to me for revenge, and without you to back  
him, his strength will be diminished." Julian scowled, realizing Merrick was  
under the impression Julian was lending Grendel far more aid than he really  
was. Thomas may have underestimated the time Merrick would make his move, but  
he had let Merrick think he was not as strong without his former Prince's  
support. It was a tactical error Merrick would come to regret, of that Julian  
was sure. His attention flicked to either side of the barn as both doors opened  
and several more Kindred entered. They had a sharp, dangerous smell to them  
that Julian didn't want to name, and it made his skin crawl. Merrick gave him  
one last, smug look.

"I told you. I am the Law, and I say who lives. And who dies."

Small sparks illuminated the dim barn briefly, then blossomed into small  
flames as their fire transferred to gas soaked rags stuffed into bottles. The  
Kindred quickly threw them up into the loft, some arcing high overhead to land  
behind the four men, catching fire to the hay bales at their backs. Cash  
managed to kick one flaming bomb back down below, but the rest had spread their  
flammable liquid over enough of the dry hay to make it impossible to extinguish  
all of it. Merrick's gang howled below, awaiting the hapless Kindred who would  
rather face their fangs than the licking kiss of the flames. 

"Oh, shit..." said Methos.

All four men had jumped when the fire bombs had been thrown at them, surging  
away from the flames. Julian found himself on the left side of the loft with  
Methos, while Cash and Duncan made a dive for the right. Flames had come up  
between them, and both parties ran to the opposite windows, hoping to find  
salvation. Julian elbowed the glass away, noticing how small the opening was,  
but a man could squeeze through if he had to. Unfortunately, one look below  
showed Merrick's Gangrels patiently waiting below, like hungry sharks awaiting  
their prey. Methos was at his side, his face also grim as he sized up their  
situation. Julian looked at him sharply as the fire at their back grew.

"Can your kind survive fire?"

Methos winced. "It's been known to happen, but insanity is often a side  
affect." Julian nodded, not surprised that the agony of being burned would  
steal the mind. Methos glanced at him, the same question in his eyes. "Yours?"

Julian shook his head. "No."

Several blazing hay bales fell behind them, intensifying the heat. Methos had  
already decided he was taking his chances down below, calculating that being  
torn apart was preferable to being roasted alive. He looked at the spot he had  
last seen Cash and MacLeod, but was unable to spot them. Had they fallen  
already, or squeezed themselves out the window to drop to the ground? If that  
were the case, he would have thought the dramatic Scot would have at least said  
good-bye...

"Julian!"

Julian turned to look across the loft, as amazed as Methos when he didn't see  
Duncan or Cash. "Duncan?" Like a coiled spring he leaped across the burning  
half of the loft, instinctively searching for his mate. If he was going to die  
in flames, he had the romantic notion his last moments were going to be spent  
in the arms of his lover. The window on that side of the loft was still closed,  
the entire back of the hay filled loft was engulfed, and a quick glance below  
only showed him two Gangrel erecting a pile of equipment to allow them to climb  
up to the loft. They were the least of Julian's worries and he turned about,  
unable to locate his friends. "Duncan? Cash?"

"Julian! Up here!"

Julian followed the sound, finally seeing the dark patch of night sky that had  
opened up in the ceiling of the barn. They had found a small doorway to the  
roof! He could just make out Duncan and Cash's faces, as well as hands reaching  
down to help him up. He raised a hand in acknowledgment, then turned towards  
his original position. "Methos!" He could barely make out the other man through  
the flames and was beginning to think he was going to have to convince the man  
to jump towards him, but Methos was already ahead of him. His coat wrapped  
around his face to protect himself from damage, Methos came hurtling out of the  
fire towards Julian. Unfortunately, the flames and accompanying smoke caused  
him to misjudge his leap and he landed perilously close to the edge of the  
loft, causing the Gangrel below to snap and snarl in excitement. Then he felt  
strong hands wind around his waist and haul him bodily back from the edge and  
he twisted around in the embrace, only to come face to face with Julian. He  
nodded a quick thanks to the Kindred, who checked him over to make sure he was  
not alight, and leaned towards his ear.

"They found a way out. We have to get to the roof."

Methos nodded and was not surprised when Julian pushed him towards a stack of  
bales that lead towards the barn's trapdoor. Cash and Duncan both leaned over,  
grasping his hands and pulling him through the opening, but he felt the bales  
beginning to crumble under his feet. The bales had been burning from the back  
side and were disintegrating. After much tugging and gripping of hands in  
tender and personal places, his body finally cleared the ceiling and he came to  
rest atop the roof on hands and knees. He coughed as cool, clean air filled his  
lungs and caressed his face. 

Once he gained his feet, Methos turned to help the other two, but there was  
not enough room for all of them at the tiny trapdoor. Happily, Julian possessed  
enough strength to leap up to the opening, and Cash and Duncan had him by the  
hands and arms, pulling frantically against his weight. Julian's upper body had  
cleared the door, but they seemed to be having trouble pulling him the rest of  
the way. He was wriggling desperately, and Methos finally realized the two  
Kindred who had been below must have gained the loft and were trying to drag  
him back down. Pain was beginning to show on Julian's face and the Immortal  
could only imagine how he was being ripped apart. Duncan shifted, digging in  
his heels, unable to get a better grip for fear of losing his hold on Julian  
altogether. Methos strode over and crouched, grabbing the Kindred Prince under  
the arms. Throwing his weight backwards, he was pleased when he felt Julian  
begin to clear the roof. Not wishing to stop the momentum or wind up with the  
heavy man squashing the life out of him, Methos planted his feet in Julian's  
stomach and sent him sailing over his head. 

"Whoa!" Julian hadn't expected Methos' move, and found himself flying across  
the roof. He landed a few feet away, stumbling awkwardly as his foot landed on  
an object and rolled out from beneath him. He was about to berate himself for  
being so clumsy when the object issued a small beep, it's little green lights  
forming into the familiar pattern of a keypad.

By the trapdoor, Duncan and Cash had recovered from their own fall backwards  
when Julian had finally slipped through. Cash immediately leaped to close it,  
but one of the Gangrel had made it to the entrance and was fighting to get to  
the roof. Alone, Merrick's Gangrel was going to have no chance against the four  
men, but he was in a raging kill-frenzy, and was heedless of his own safety.  
Cash slammed the door shut, but the Gangrel was fighting back, nearly unseating  
Cash as the young man added his own weight to the door. 

The Gangrel finally backed off under the weight until only his fingers could  
be seen between the door and the roof, and Methos unceremoniously drew his  
sword and sent it crashing down through the digits. A howl of pain echoed  
through the burning barn and as Methos kicked the small finger pieces over the  
side of the roof, Cash shivered, looking at Methos with a smile of savage  
respect. Without thinking, Methos grinned back as Duncan rolled his eyes,  
slightly disgusted by his friend's graveyard sense of humor. He then glanced  
across the roof to his Kindred lover, surprised that Julian had not joined them  
and worried he was injured. The Kindred was huddled a few feet from them, his  
hand to his ear, talking to himself.

"Julian?"

Julian turned towards the three men and they could see he had a cell phone in  
hand and was busily relaying their predicament to whomever he had on the phone.  
Methos scowled darkly.

"You mean all this time he's had a phone with him?"

Cash came to his Prince's defense, no less puzzled. "No, we left it in the  
car."

Just then Julian looked at Duncan with questioning eyes. "Do you know where we  
are, exactly?"

Methos piped up. "The old Rosemont estate."

Julian nodded. "Thomas, we're at the old Rosemont estate. We're on top of the  
barn, and it's on fire. Good, yes. And Thomas..." Julian looked nervously  
across the roof to the two trees that grew close to the barn, watching the dark  
shapes writhing in the branches as they climbed higher. "...hurry."

Closing the phone, Julian stepped back to his small group, accepting Duncan's  
spontaneous hug and squeezing his lover back. He ran a hand down Cash's arm,  
satisfied that he and Methos were unharmed and nodded gratefully at Methos for  
his help. The Highlander fussed over Julian's bleeding legs, a gift from the  
now fingerless Gangrel, but Julian assured Duncan he would heal quickly.

"Thomas and his people are on their way, maybe ten to fifteen minutes. If we  
can hold Merrick's gang until they arrive, we will make it." He stroked his  
lover's back gently, amazed that they might actually have a chance. Their  
newfound hope alleviated some of the desperation they felt about their  
situation, and Duncan spoke up first, his katana held out to catch the  
moonlight.

"I think it's time we went on the aggressive."

Julian smiled, pleased to have these men by his side, and turned towards the  
trees by the roof which would allow the Gangrel to reach them. "Cash and I will  
take those who make it over from the trees. We'll disable them as best we can.  
You two finish the job?" He indicated their swords and the two Immortals  
smirked at each other.

"Oh, we'll be just fine." Methos winked at Cash as the two Kindred stalked  
over to the edge of the roof by the trees. The first Gangrel was halfway across  
the branch, suddenly unsure of himself and hesitating. Unfortunately, his  
colleague behind him grew nervous at the sound of wood cracking and shoved him  
unceremoniously onto the roof, then jumped on himself. Julian had taken  
advantage of the surprise and uncertainty of the first one across, grabbing him  
by the throat and kicking him savagely in the gut. He flung the Kindred away  
from him, still holding his head and twisting it until he heard the snap,  
feeling the thump under his feet as the body fell onto the roof. A flash of  
sword blade and he saw just how efficient Duncan was with that katana of his. 

He spared a look at Cash who had grappled slightly with the more eager  
Gangrel, but his Primogen had eventually injured his opponent sufficiently to  
keep him prone long enough for Methos to strike a killing blow. Quickly Julian  
returned his attention to the trees; more Gangrel were attempting to make the  
leap, hoping to get enough members of their gang on the roof to mob them.

The branch popped in protest again as another Gangrel leaped towards the roof,  
his claws eager to rip into Julian's flesh. Happily, the branch was thin enough  
to make it impossible for the larger Gangrel to make it across, and the smaller  
Kindred were very little match for Julian and Cash, who both had the added  
benefit of Immortal blood in their veins. Julian slammed the heel of his hand  
into the temple of his latest attacker, stunning the Gangrel and bringing him  
to his knees, then watched as Duncan swung his katana through the exposed neck,  
his face a mask of warrior concentration. 

Julian blinked, wondering not for the first time just who Duncan really was,  
and decided that they were due for a long talk once they got out of this mess.  
He glanced over at Methos and Cash and was surprised to see the two working in  
flawless tandem. Perhaps it was the shared blood that seemed to connect the two  
men, or it could have been Methos' acceptance of Cash's wild nature. Whatever  
the cause, they seemed to be almost enjoying themselves, both wearing feral  
grins as their bodies were sprayed with the blood of their shared enemy. The  
Prince decided he was going to have to talk with Cash as well, but set his  
thoughts aside as two more of Merrick's gang made the jump.

Duncan sent his blade through the neck of four more Gangrel before the tide of  
eager bodies slowed. He glanced at Julian, who's eyes shone with shameless  
pride at his lover. Methos stepped from his own pile of bodies, kicking a head  
away from his foot and rolling his shoulders, panting slightly as he grinned at  
his fellow Immortal.

"I don't know about you, but I find the lack of Quickening rather  
anti-climactic."

Duncan snorted, looking over at the trees and wondering why no more Kindred  
were coming over. Merrick had come around to inspect the activity on this side  
of the barn and decided not to waste anymore of his dwindling gang. The fire  
might take half an hour or so to consume the barn, but Julian Luna would still  
die. A roaring sound suddenly blasted from the other side of the barn, catching  
everyone's attention, and Merrick raced around the corner while Duncan and  
Julian strode across. Methos and Cash stayed by the trees in case more Kindred  
tried to gain the roof. On the opposite side, Julian took one look down and  
then beamed at Cash. In the driveway between the house and the barn were  
several cars and at least two dozen motorcycles. Thomas Grendal had arrived  
with reinforcements! Merrick was taken completely by surprise; he had no idea  
how Grendal had found out where he had holed up, and the Prince of Seacouver  
had definitely known he would find him as this was no scouting party. All of  
Grendel’s fighting Kindred were at Merrick's doorstep and they came to do some  
serious damage.

More of Merrick's gang streamed out of the main house and engaged Grendel’s  
loyal Kindred. Duncan had seen a lot of death and conflict in his four hundred  
years, but never the savagery of a Kindred civil war. Limbs, guts and throats  
were torn while howls of rage and pain flowed through the air like the blood at  
their feet. Guns were fired, their roaring explosions echoing across the hills  
and back. The fire in the barn was warming the roof alarmingly, and the heat  
had exploded the small window outward, spraying the combatants with hot glass.  
Duncan wrapped his arms around Julian who was shivering at the sight of the  
slaughter below them. It was all too easy for Julian to imagine these were his  
people as his own city had come close to this type of conflict more than once.  
Merrick and Grendal had faced off in the driveway in front of the barn and  
begun their battle for dominance. Since nearly all the Kindred present were  
Gangrel, the warring factions instinctively kept their distance from the two  
leaders, knowing that whoever won would be their Prince. Finally, the remaining  
members of Merrick's gang stopped fighting, deciding to switch their loyalty to  
Grendal if he should prove to be stronger. Most Kindred stood silently, the  
only sounds were Grendal and Merrick's grunts and growls and the constant snap  
and crackle of the burning barn.

Cash and Methos left their post and joined Duncan and Julian on the part of  
the roof that did not have flames licking at the edges, the trapdoor having  
already collapsed inward. Cash kept an eye on the trees anyway, while Julian  
explained what was going on to Methos. The outcome of this fight would directly  
determine how easily they got down off the barn. If Grendal won, there would be  
no problem. If Merrick won, his gang could very well rally and continue  
fighting, forcing them to fight their way off the estate. Grendel’s Kindred  
would do their best to assist them, but Merrick still had enough Kindred to  
make an escape far from easy. Duncan glanced at Methos nervously, and the older  
Immortal nodded back at the trees. They were going to have to make a break for  
it if the fight for leadership turned against Grendal. 

The two Kindred were well matched; Merrick was taller, but of slighter build,  
while Grendal had the advantage of impressively thick arms and a lower center  
of gravity. Grendal had more experience, but Merrick was clever, beginning to  
guess Grendel’s moves as the fight wore on. Both Kindred bled from multiple  
gashes on their arms and faces and began to show signs of fatigue. Grendal  
swiped Merrick's legs out from under him and the younger Kindred seemed to  
stumble, only to come up into a fighting stance with a knife the size of a  
bayonet in his grasp. Grendal quickly searched the ground, hoping to spot an  
abandoned weapon as Merrick had, but there was nothing. Merrick advanced on the  
old Prince, blade swinging and a merciless look of death in his eyes.

Grendal backed off, dodging Merrick's strikes and snarling his frustration.  
Merrick actually began to laugh, a cold, snickering sort of sound as he toyed  
with his Prince, backing his elder towards the wall of the barn. He was going  
to enjoy gutting this city Kindred and dove in low to make a stab at Grendel’s  
abdomen when a flash of pale white appeared at Grendel’s side, hitting the  
ground with a slight thunk. Merrick's attention was diverted for a split second  
before Grendal grabbed the object and, quick as thought, had wrenched it free  
from the earth and swung it in an arch to meet his throat. For a shocking  
moment searing pain lit Merrick from within, followed by a the surreal feeling  
of being unable to control his limbs. As he smashed to his knees on the ground,  
his last vision of the world was Duncan's katana, held firmly in the grip of  
the victorious Prince of Seacouver.

On the roof, Julian and Methos both looked at Duncan, his hand still in midair  
from dropping the sword to the ground below. The Highland Immortal was  
sporting a rather smug look and Julian grinned at his lover's quick thinking,  
throwing an arm around him and squeezing.

Methos shook his head, chuckling. "And here I thought you liked to stay out of  
politics."

Grendal looked up at the roof of the burning barn, his own grin grateful.  
"Would you care to come down and join us, Julian?" 

"We'd love to, Thomas. Be right down." Julian hugged Duncan again as Grendal  
shouted for ladders to be brought to the barn to help down Julian and his small  
band. There was a louder crack as more of the barn roof began to give way to  
the flames and the four men moved as far from the burning section as they  
could. Julian took Duncan's face in his hands and kissed him soundly, then  
pulled away to look deep into Duncan's eyes. "Thomas is going to love you, you  
know. You'll always be protected from us, no Kindred in this city will touch  
you."

Duncan gave him a sly smile, his hands warm on Julian's hip. "Maybe I'll let  
one Kindred touch me, but that's all." 

At last decent sized ladders were found and Cash was the last to jump to the  
ground, leaving the barn to burn itself out. Some of Merrick's gang, knowing  
they were going to die at the hands of their fellow Gangrel, had decided to go  
down fighting and were still struggling with Grendel’s Kindred. A black sedan  
pulled around and Grendal opened the door, waving for the four men to join him.  
Julian drug Duncan towards the car with Cash and Methos on their heels, but as  
Cash waited for the other two to get inside, he spotted the stealth bikes  
sitting silent in the driveway. Methos caught his look, and wondered if the  
young Kindred had the same idea he did.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Cash looked at him, a shy grin creeping across his face, pleased that he and  
Methos were still operating on the same wavelength. "Wanna come with me?"

Methos smiled, his eyes narrowing and crinkling with mischief. "Right behind  
you."

They dashed to the nearest black bike, Cash slamming his ass onto the seat and  
kicking the bike to life as he felt Methos warm weight settle in behind him.  
Julian and Grendal were both yelling at them in confusion, but Cash merely gave  
them a thumbs up and let out the throttle, speeding down the driveway and away  
from the carnage at the Rosemont estate. The black sedan was not far behind  
them, but the bike's faster speed and ability to disappear in the dark allowed  
Cash and Methos to lose the car easily once they hit the highway. Cash felt  
Methos wrap his arms firmly around his waist, causing a rare fluttering in the  
Kindred's stomach as they turned off the main road and onto a dark and quiet  
secondary road. A wild kind of joy swept through the young Gangrel as he sped  
off into the night.

* * *

His arms wrapped securely around a hard, muscled stomach, Methos clung to Cash  
as the wind whipped at his cold fingers, the smell of the young Kindred's hair  
and his worn leather jacket driven into his nose. The ride itself was surreal,  
like flying with your eyes closed. The bike was made for stealth, the muffler  
only allowed the engine to voice a rumbled purr, but it was the driving without  
lights that made Methos crazy. The vampire obviously had no trouble steering by  
what little light the moon provided, but for Methos, it was like standing on  
the beach at midnight. You could hear the ocean, feel it's power, but you  
couldn't see it. It was as disquieting as it was thrilling, and forced Methos  
to clutch at Cash every time the bike shifted unexpectedly.

After a few miles, Cash left the road and climbed a small incline, finally  
stopping next to a large overhang of rock. Methos' hand drifted to his sword  
hilt. He knew it had been risky riding off alone with the vampire, but if he  
was honest with himself, he was more comfortable facing Cash alone than with  
MacLeod and Julian around. Cash killed the engine and the woods seemed to  
suddenly pull in around them, smelling of wetness and growing vegetation, while  
thin ribbons of moonlight filtered down on them.

Methos slowly got up off the bike. "Why are we stopping?"

Cash scanned their surroundings. "I want to see if we were followed. This rock  
will give us shelter on three sides, we stand a better chance if they try an  
ambush. Where are you going?"

Methos had begun walking slowly away from the bike, half out of mistrust.  
"I...well, in all the excitement, what with fighting blood-thirsty maniacs,  
escaping flaming death and speeding through the night in total darkness..."  
Cash sat on the bike, blinking at him. Methos tilted his head, giving him a  
lopsided grin. "I...have to see a man about a horse." 

Cash snorted softly. "Oh...yeah, okay." Methos heard a low chuckle as he  
ducked behind the rock ledge to relieve himself. Cash was right, the ledge  
would serve as a fairly good fortress should they be ambushed, and Methos'  
appreciation for the young Kindred went up a notch; Julian had chosen his  
bodyguard well. Cash had decided to lure any pursuers they may have into going  
after the more vulnerable men on the bike and leave Julian to escape with more  
safety. It demonstrated a level of loyalty that surprised Methos. He also  
acknowledged Cash's reluctance to feed from him, and that the young man had  
appreciated how difficult it was for Methos to let him. Cash had made the  
bloodletting as gentle and personal as he could manage, stroking Methos to calm  
and assure him, and had not made an issue of how aroused Methos had become.  
This was not the behavior the Immortal had come to associate with the vampires,  
but then again, it had been centuries since he had seen any, and he had changed  
as well. Merrick's attitude was more in keeping with his concept of vampires,  
but he also had seen Merrick in the midst of a play for dominance. 

Zipping himself back into decency, he came back around the rock and spied Cash  
in the moonlight, standing stock still a few feet from the bike with his back  
towards Methos. How easy it would be for Methos to pull out his sword and rid  
the world of one more leech! Cash knew he carried the broadsword, yet he stood  
with his back unprotected. Since Cash didn't seem the type to overlook details  
like this, Methos took it for the sign of trust it was and settled himself in a  
vertical sprawl against the rock. It was a deep gamble but it paid off and  
after a moment, Cash sighed, walking back and leaning next to Methos, smiling  
slightly.

"I don't hear anything." Cash spoke in an almost whisper. Methos nodded,  
staying silent. "Doesn't mean there aren't more of them, just means we  
destroyed the ones at the barn." They spent a few more minutes in complete  
quiet, Methos watching Cash as he combed the surroundings with his senses,  
looking like a hunting wolf. Methos wondered idly what it would be like to have  
this kind of power at his command. With a sigh, Cash dug out the cell phone  
Julian had used on the barn roof and phoned his Prince.

"Julian? Great, you made it. Yeah, I know-toast. Methos and I are fine. I'm  
stopping to see if anyone shows up. Nothing yet. Route five to Pinewood, got  
it. Meet you at Grendel's in half an hour." He pocketed the cell and gave  
Methos a soft smile. "Julian and MacLeod made it to a safehouse. We can join  
them soon."

Methos nodded, weirdly relieved and jumpy at the same time. "Man, I could sure  
use a beer."

Cash grinned, flashing white teeth in the dimness. "Tell me about it. And none  
of that piss-Light junk either..."

Methos looked sharply at Cash. "You drink beer? I thought..."

Cash snorted. "Why not? We eat and drink anything we like." He took in Methos'  
confused expression. "That whole 'we don't drink wine' crap is just made up.  
Most of the legends are." Part of Cash instinctively shrunk from his  
confession, but the Masquerade was already blown, and there wasn't a lot any of  
them could do about it. Besides, part of him really wanted Methos to not hate  
him, to not be afraid. The man had already sacrificed himself this night, he  
owed him at least the truth.

Methos chewed his lip, filing away new information. "But you still need to..."

Cash nodded impatiently, looking at his boots. "Yeah, we need human blood to  
survive, but we only need a small amount. It's against our laws to drink until  
the person dies." He could instantly tell by Methos' stiff posture that this  
angered the man, but Methos' voice remained low and calm. Dangerously low and  
calm.

"You seemed pretty intent on bleeding me dry." Methos' eyes had narrowed as he  
watched Cash's every facial feature he could make out.

"No, see...you're blood is different." Cash said with awe in his voice,  
shaking his head, frustrated with words. "I..can't explain how, but you're  
different." He looked straight at Methos, trying to make himself clear. "You're  
not like anyone I've ever had before. Your blood...it's like a drug. One taste  
and you can't stop. Blood always carries some bad shit...impurities. But  
yours...yours was like...pure light, like life, like...sex." Cash looked back  
at his boots again, oddly shy suddenly. "I was glad Julian and MacLeod were  
there, otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to stop." He bit his lips together,  
obviously ashamed at his lack of control. Methos' gaze softened as he looked at  
the young man, weighing his words and glad that Cash spoke the truth, even if  
it sent a shiver up his spine.

"What now? Are you addicted? Am I gonna spend the rest of my life waiting for  
you to show up for another hit?"

Cash shook his head adamantly. "No. It doesn't work like that." He leveled his  
gaze at Methos again, hoping the older man would see his sincerity. "As much as  
the memory of it is amazing, it's not a craving that can dominate my will. But  
I can't ever have you again, ever. If I did, I'd never stop." An almost pained  
look came to his face. "Then I would be as bad as Merrick's gang."

"So what's to keep the others from doing what you dare not?" 

Cash fumbled in his pockets, the discussion making him nervous enough to want  
a cigarette. "Kindred law is very...rigid. And final. That's why we have to get  
you to Thomas. He is the Prince of Seacouver, and he will decree that no one  
can touch you. Ever."

Methos was pessimistic. "But there will always be rebels, like the ones who  
stole MacLeod."

Cash shook his head. "Kindred don't even know you exist. They didn't steal  
MacLeod because they could feed off of him, they did it because they knew  
Julian was involved with him, and they wanted to send a message to Julian, and  
to Thomas. Not to get any ideas about coming up here and taking over." He  
paused, patting down his jacket, looking for something. "They probably just  
intended to kill him."

Methos gave a cynical snort. "Oh, there's a happy thought."

Cash pulled a lone cigarette from his jacket and cupping his hands around the  
tip, lit the end. "Only Merrick's Kindred know what you are capable of, which  
is why they all have to die, even the ones who were not at the barn. We can't  
chance that the ones who saw Duncan die and come back kept their secret from  
their brothers. All of Merrick's gang were condemned the moment they bled  
Duncan to death. But you and Duncan will be protected now, and going against a  
Prince's wishes gets one of us a horrid, final death at the hands of friends  
and family alike." Cash sighed, trying to think of a way to make Methos  
understand, blowing smoke towards the sky. "Kindred society is very small, very  
close. Despite our differences." He offered the lit cigarette to Methos.  
"Sorry, I've only got the one. Must've lost the whole pack in the fight."

Methos took it like a peace pipe, tasting Cash on it as he did. "This your  
emergency butt?" 

Cash laughed softly. "Yeah." He looked at the other man, who was smirking at  
him good naturedly. 

"Good to be prepared." 

They stood for minute in companionable silence until Cash's curiosity got the  
better of him. "Can I ask you something? You seemed pretty comfortable with  
that sword, cutting off heads..." Methos' lips pressed into a line, his body  
communicating just how unwilling he was to discuss this. "You and MacLeod both  
carry swords..." Cash looked directly into Methos' eyes. "You guys wouldn't be  
"vampire hunters," now would you?"

Methos almost sighed with relief, and handed the cigarette back to Cash. "I  
*have* run across your type before. Like I said, it's good to be prepared."  
Cash wasn't buying it, but the determined set of Methos' face made him realize  
he wasn't going to get any more info than that, so he turned his attention back  
towards the primeval surroundings.

His body beginning to tense, Methos closed his eyes, waiting for the  
inevitable questioning for more clarity, a further explanation of his words.  
When none came, he risked a sideways look at Cash, surprised to see the Kindred  
had returned to scanning the woods. Blinking, he realized Cash wasn't going to  
pursue the point. It was the one thing about MacLeod that still bugged the crap  
out of the old Immortal; when Mac wanted to find out something, he was like a  
dog worrying a bone. He'd pick and nag and wear you down, until you either told  
him what he wanted to know or cut his head off. Methos had long ago decided  
that this trait was partially responsible for the Kronos incident blowing up in  
their faces so spectacularly, and while he accepted that silence wasn't always  
the best course, he knew it was his anger at being hounded that had made him  
turn on the Highlander and throw his bloodthirsty past into his friend's face.  
Joe wasn't much better, although he had long ago figured out when Methos drew a  
line and when he had pushed his friend too hard.

He glanced at Cash again, watching as the young man finished the cigarette and  
meticulously extinguished the embers, almost snorting at the possibility that  
anything could stay alight in this dank and wet forest. He sighed softly,  
turning away and looking at his own boots in thought. As much as he considered  
MacLeod to be one of his closest friends, this quiet acceptance by the young  
Kindred warmed Methos in deep places in his soul. Cash was probably more like  
Methos than MacLeod could ever be, his past more bloody and lacking in regret  
than any Immortal, and probably just as reluctant to talk about it. Perhaps  
this was the thing that held the Kindred together, that kept their laws so  
effective and isolated them from anyone but their fellow Kindred. They all had  
violent natures and shady pasts, and they all accepted that flaw in each other.  
While MacLeod was a warrior and had killed many men, he had always strived for  
honor, seeking that in his companions and being hard pressed to accept flaws  
such as Methos had once possessed. It afforded Methos some emotional breathing  
room which he hadn't realized he had been asking MacLeod to give him since  
before Bordeaux.

Methos stole another look at Cash again, noting the strong jaw and scruffy  
appearance. It gave the Kindred a wild and passionate look, one Methos knew  
first hand to be true. He had seen the man fight and he had felt his lips on  
his neck, both experiences causing a shiver to run through him. He remembered  
Cash's large hands cupping his ass, his young cock pressing into Methos' thigh  
while his chest heaved under Methos' hands. The Immortal wondered though, if  
Cash's reaction was in response to Methos' blood, or if there were something  
more interesting going on? His eyes traveled down the young man at his side,  
appraising the well muscled upper body and tight ass before gliding back to his  
rather handsome face.

Blinking, he realized Cash's cheeks were reddening slightly, and even though  
Cash was not looking at Methos, the Kindred was acutely aware of the intense  
gaze. The elder man decided this could be an amusing evening after all, and  
smiling wickedly, grasped the young man's chin to secure his attention. Methos  
found he liked the feel of the semi-soft hairs tickling his palm and wondered  
what they would feel like raking over the sensitive skin of his thighs. Cash's  
eyes showed some confusion at first, but they caught the sparkle in the other  
man's and he smiled, a somewhat wolfish looking gesture that made Methos' blood  
run a little quicker.

"Uhmmmm...I think we have to go." Methos stroked Cash's chin minutely, the  
regret over having to return to civilization evident in his voice and causing  
their smiles to drift from their faces.

Cash nodded, his look suddenly unreadable, and stepped away from the rock,  
heading for the bike. He swung a leg over and started the engine while Methos  
settled in behind him as if he belonged there, adjusting his sword to keep it  
free of the wheel. They returned to the road, Methos turning back many times to  
see if anyone was behind them, the woods remaining quiet and blessedly free of  
killer Kindred. 

They reached the ribbon of moonlight that was the highway and Cash sped up,  
testing the limits of the bike and Methos' nerves. Cash decided he wasn't going  
to use the headlights unless he started running across traffic, hoping to avoid  
detection and knowing the real reason he was doing it was because it made  
Methos hang on to him tighter. That fluttery feeling was back in his midsection  
and the secure feeling of being wrapped in a warm and secure embrace nearly  
brought a groan to his lips. He was beginning to really like the solid body at  
his back, the large hands gripping him, making him imagine what they would feel  
like holding onto his naked hips. Biting his lips, he criticized himself for  
letting his desire run away with him and imagining all sorts of things that  
Methos didn't mean. He continued to bite his lips until he definitely felt  
Methos sliding his hands inside his jacket, causing him to gasp softly, the  
sound stolen by the wind in their faces but the movement of his ribcage was  
felt by sensitive fingers.

Methos licked his lips and leaned towards the back of Cash's neck, pushing the  
leather collar out of the way with his chin and sending his warm breath  
ghosting over pale skin. The bike vibrated under his legs and the taut body in  
front of him did the same, the twin sensations making Methos edge closer to his  
companion rider. The minute movement caused his cock to nestle firmly between  
jean-clad cheeks with just enough room between the two bodies to allow Methos  
to become semi-erect, and for Cash to be aware of this. Getting no request to  
stop, Methos gripped Cash around the waist with his left hand and let the other  
drop down to the young man's thighs, caressing firmly along the inseam until it  
reached the apex where it encountered a bulging heat. He stroked the material  
and pressed his lips against the back of Cash's neck, feeling the young man  
swallow convulsively. Methos couldn't help but smile, Cash was deliciously  
responsive to his touch. Were all vampires like this? If this were the case,  
Methos was almost ready to forgive MacLeod for taking one as a lover. 

Methos cupped his right hand around Cash and very gently squeezed, chuckling  
when the bike bobbled slightly. He briefly considered stopping his teasing to  
avoid crashing the bike, but he was having too much fun, and taking into  
account both of their natures, they would most likely survive the crash. He  
nosed about until he had found Cash's ear and after warming it with his breath,  
sent his tongue to glide along it's outer edges, feeling Cash's chest vibrate  
with a moan. Sliding his fingers gently under Cash's crotch, he palmed the  
heavy sac of cloth, running his thumb up and down the firming flesh. Anchored  
by Cash's erection, he loosened his grip around Cash's middle and groped under  
his jacket for nipples, chuckling deeply when he came across them. 

Cash moaned again, his mind fracturing as fingers rubbed and pinched his now  
sensitive nipples while a hand held his cock possessively and that deep, sexy  
chuckle floated into his ear and made a beeline for his prick. As an  
afterthought, he tried to keep his attention focused on the road, which was  
happily deserted at this hour. He was panting freely now, Methos energetically  
working on a hickey at his neck while simultaneously opening his zipper with  
his free hand. Cash felt pinned, forced to keep his body still to control the  
bike while Methos seemed to have his hands everywhere, determined to drive Cash  
crazy. Shudders ripped through Cash as Methos freed his erection at last, the  
warmth of his hand alternating with the shocking cold of the wind and Cash's  
legs began to tremble. The bike began to slow, more because Cash was forgetting  
to give it gas, but the Kindred decided it was just as well as Methos began to  
roughly stroke him, making him arch back into the Immortal's arms and groan as  
Methos spread his own wetness over his shaft. He steered the bike into a  
parking lot of a closed gas station and let it stop, flopping his head back  
against Methos' shoulder and reaching around to grab Methos' flank. His  
frequent arguments with Sasha had left Cash without a lover's touch for quite a  
long time, and he was drowning in the feel of the firm grip working him to a  
fevered pitch, his groans intermingling with whines that pleaded for more. 

The feeling of Methos' hard cock at his back and the trembling in the thigh in  
his hands connected Cash to the Undying man, assuring him that he wasn't  
dreaming, and the firm stroking urging him to howl loudly as he began to come.  
His body was wracked with pleasure again and again as his cock quickly filled  
Methos' hand with evidence of his sexual excitement. What Methos missed  
spattered onto the bike, but Cash couldn't have cared. He floated back down  
slowly to earth, happy that Methos cradled his body to keep it from pitching  
off the bike. A shrill noise sounded from his jacket and Cash was glad Methos  
went digging for it as he had yet to regain the coordinated use of his hands. 

"Hello?" Cash felt the vibration of that deep voice at his back, smiling  
slightly as his breathing slowed, content to listen to that sexy bass all  
night. "No, no we're fine. We had to...stop at a gas station." Cash snorted at  
his wily companion's almost-lie. "Yes. Oh, and Julian? Please tell Mac to stop  
worrying. Thanks." Methos returned the phone to Cash's jacket while Cash  
scooted down further on the bike until his head lay in Methos' lap. He grinned  
up at Methos and reached up to run a gentle hand along Methos' face.

"That was...uhm...thanks. Wild. Listen...do you want...? He tried to feel  
Methos' erection at the back of his head, but it had gone down considerably.  
Methos smiled at the question in Cash's eyes.

"That's okay, I'll keep. We'd better get back to Mac and Julian before they  
send a posse out for us."

"Are you sure?" Cash sat up, still looking back at Methos, quite willing to  
reciprocate.

Methos' smile deepened. "Yeah. Catch me next time." 

As much as Methos wanted Cash's mouth on him, he felt vulnerable along the  
deserted stretch of road, especially if any of the Kindred had indeed followed  
them. Cash put himself back together and then twisted around to take Methos'  
lips with his own. Methos closed his eyes, enjoying the hot mouth and energetic  
tongue that danced with his. Then Cash pulled away, taking Methos' arms and  
wrapping them around himself again, a gesture which made Methos want to kiss  
him all over, but they needed to get to the safehouse. With some regret, Methos  
realized that once they did, the vampires and the Immortals would most likely  
be parting ways and considering the violent lifestyles they both lead, he might  
never get to let Cash pay him back. Sighing, he looked up the street, wondering  
how long he would get to hold Cash in his arms.

"How far are we?"

Cash looked up and down the highway, then jerked a thumb behind them. "I  
dunno, really. I missed the turn back there." 

This struck Methos as hysterical and he burst into laughter, his mirth  
infecting Cash who began to chuckle. Methos couldn't seem to stop and he  
recognized it for the release of tension it was. They finally wound down and  
Cash gunned the bike to life, turning expertly around and heading back down the  
highway. Cash turned on the lights this time and found the secondary road he  
was looking for. A few miles and a few turns later and they were pulling into  
the drive of Thomas Grendel’s home.


	6. Maintain the Masquerades

Cash cut the engine and the two men hopped off, stretching their limbs and  
looking over the place. Methos couldn't see any guards, but Cash knew they  
would be there in the shadows. Methos wound an arm around Cash as they climbed  
the steps to the wooden porch and felt a rush of satisfaction as Cash slipped  
his arm around his back. Methos was about to step into a den of vampires, yet  
he felt oddly safe with Cash by his side.

It was dimmer inside than Methos would have liked, noting that the vampires  
ability to see in the dark better than himself was really beginning to grate on  
his nerves. They walked down a hallway towards the back of the house where  
there was more light, and Methos could feel the others around them even though  
he couldn't see them. He swallowed hard, his steps slowing a bit until Cash  
rubbed his back soothingly, reminding him that things would be okay. Methos  
heaved a sigh. Cash and Julian he knew and felt somewhat more at ease with, the  
others were an unknown. He could feel the Immortal buzz nearby, so he knew Mac  
was alive and close. His goal was to find MacLeod and get the fuck out of this  
house, the quicker the better.

Methos knew he had expectations of what a vampire's den should look like, and  
admitted that he was basing it largely on his past experiences with them and  
what his mind was supplying as suitable digs for creatures who fed on blood and  
death. None of his wild imaginings came even close to the truth. The hall ended  
in a modern looking kitchen that looked like any mortal's kitchen; refrigerator  
humming, a few dishes in the sink, a bowl of fresh fruit on the counter. Julian  
and Thomas Grendal sat on stools at an island in the middle, conversing quietly  
over warm cups of coffee. Methos found it to be incongruous, but remembered  
what Cash had told him. Since there were no mortals here save himself and  
MacLeod, Methos realized the vampires didn't just affect human appetites to  
fool anyone-they did it for their own pleasure. 

Julian smiled at Methos and Cash as they stepped in, rising to hug Cash, happy  
to have him back safe and sound. A familiar scent rose from the young Gangrel,  
tickling Julian's nose and making his eyes widen. He pulled back to look at  
Cash directly, questions in his own eyes, but Cash merely gave him that  
languid, lopsided smile of his. Julian arched an eyebrow but kept his tongue,  
he'd have time enough to worm the whole story out of Cash when they returned to  
San Francisco. The night would soon end and Julian was becoming eager to return  
to his city.

Grendal had risen also and once Julian had released him, clapped Cash on the  
back, complimenting him on his fine job of keeping his Prince in one piece.  
Cash nodded his thanks, but the attention was overwhelming him and he shifted  
away slightly, causing Grendal to focus on Methos. "I've heard you're as good a  
fighter as any of us. You have my thanks, I would have missed Julian greatly."  
Grendal offered Methos his hand and the Immortal grasped it, still waiting for  
some gesture of violence, but Grendal only seemed genuinely pleased and shook  
his hand gently. "Thank you, Methos."

Methos stiffened. Having a few mortals know his real name was disconcerting,  
having a bunch of vampires know it made him decidedly uncomfortable. "Er...it's  
Adam. And you're welcome."

Grendal grinned widely, his admiration for the thin man rising. "Ah, see! This  
one is smart." He looked pointedly at Julian, who sighed heavily.

Methos had already scanned the entire kitchen and adjoining living room, so he  
looked directly at Julian, his tone commanding. "Where's MacLeod?"

Grendal snorted loudly and slid back onto his stool, his grace at odds with  
his powerful frame. Julian offered Methos a seat and some coffee, both of which  
were soundly refused. "Duncan is on the back porch having a...conversation with  
his principles." Methos relaxed slightly, that certainly sounded like the  
MacLeod he knew. Julian drifted back onto his seat and grasped his own warm mug  
for moral support. The two lovers had obviously had their first difference of  
opinion. "There are a few of Merrick's gang still missing, some members who  
were at remote sights when Duncan was kidnapped. They never made it to the  
Rosemont estate, but we don't know if they were involved with the kidnapping or  
not."

Grendal looked down into his cup, the emptiness of it making his voice echo  
slightly. "Doesn't matter. As part of Merrick's pack, they have to be wiped  
out." Methos took in the timbre of Grendel’s voice and body posture and was  
intrigued to see that the burly vampire was not looking forward to killing the  
remaining gang, but just as ruthlessly determined to do so. Methos glanced at  
Julian. The vampire shook his head fractionally and his eyes told Methos what  
he could not say aloud. Grendal did not know what MacLeod and Methos were, but  
his goal of killing the rest of the gang would ensure that the Immortals would  
not become public knowledge. Methos nodded minutely at Julian, his gratitude  
for the vampire's understanding evident in his large, dark eyes.

Grendal scratched absently at an ear. "Problem is, you boys'd be safer holed  
up somewhere outside of Seacouver. Just for a while, until we can round up the  
rest of them."

Methos agreed, all for leaving the area for the next few decades, but Julian  
had other plans. "Grendal has decreed that no one may touch you or Duncan, but  
if you leave Seacouver, that no longer holds. I offer sanctuary in my home in  
San Francisco. My laws are followed there, and I would be better able to guard  
you both should any of the remaining gang follow us." Julian's eyes were  
haunted. "I need to know Duncan is safe." The close call they had all had on  
the roof of the barn had shaken the vampire as much as it had unnerved the  
Immortals and Julian would not rest easy without Duncan close to him. Even  
having him on the back porch, surrounded by Grendel’s best guards, made him  
nervous.

Methos chewed the inside of his lip in thought. While the idea of camping out  
in the midst of a horde of vampires did not sound like the best idea, it did  
increase his chances of avoiding any of Merrick's gang. Julian would fight for  
Duncan until death and both Immortals had Grendel’s respect. Methos always saw  
the value of going with the winner and decided this fell into that philosophy.  
He and MacLeod would actually be safer in San Francisco than anywhere else they  
could get to in the near future, and having Julian and Cash and other loyal  
vampires to protect their backs was preferable to fending off an ambush in some  
cave in Tibet. Fighting fire with fire and hoping he didn't get burned, he  
thought ruefully. Coming to a decision, he nodded his agreement at Julian and  
saw Cash shift by his side, no doubt delighted to learn Methos would be coming  
home with him.

Julian smiled in relief, for some reason believing that the whole plan would  
fall apart if Methos had not agreed. "You already understand you must change  
your name, at least temporarily, while you are with me."

"Of course." Methos pegged Julian with a hard look. "I never intended for you  
to know my name in the first place." He was going to give MacLeod a harsh  
lecture on that subject later.

"Well, Duncan is having reservations about changing his name..."

Methos gave an exasperated snort, shoving his hands into his coat pockets,  
grumbling under his breath and heading purposefully for the back door. "Damn  
child...for the love of..." The innocent, wooden door was wrenched open and  
banged closed. Julian looked at Grendal who was chuckling quietly.

"Quite the little firecracker, isn't he?" On the other side of the kitchen,  
Cash hid his smile, thinking Seacouver's Prince had spoken more truth that he  
knew.

Methos found the Highlander leaning against the rough, wooden rail,  
overlooking the scenery and brooding mightily. Duncan turned to Methos, winding  
strong arms around the elder man and hugging him fiercely. Methos was slightly  
startled at Mac's display, but he hugged him back, leaning for a moment on the  
other's broad shoulder before Mac pulled away.

"I...I'm.." Duncan couldn't seem to get the words out, which made Methos  
smile, his eyes twinkling with moonlight.

"I know Mac. I am too." Both men gripped each others arms for a moment in  
suitable warrior gratitude. "Now...about this-"

Duncan shifted, turning back to the scenery again. "Let me guess, you're here  
to tell me how stubborn and pig-headed I'm being."

"Oh good, I see you've started without me." Methos grinned his trademark  
Cheshire smile. "Mac...it's temporary."

"Methos, Duncan MacLeod is what I am."

"Exactly. And for a few weeks, you're going to be something else."

Mac kept his gaze down. "I'm not sure I can do that."

Methos sighed and threw an arm around his friend. "You *can* do it, you just  
don't know how. I'll help you." Methos could feel Duncan stiffen under his arm.  
"MacLeod, this hasn't anything to do with bloody honor." He lowered his voice  
and leaned towards Duncan's ear to avoid being overheard by the Kindred guards  
that he glimpsed now and again. "This isn't The Game, Mac. These aren't  
honorable beings, the sort of people who will only fight you one on one, and  
they sure as hell have no qualms about attacking on Holy ground. You've seen  
how they fight, how hard it is to take them down, and those were young ones.  
You get someone around Grendel’s age after you and your four hundred year joy  
ride is over." Methos felt a small measure of hope when Duncan turned weary  
eyes towards him and opted to try for the sympathy vote. "Look...it's not much  
to ask, is it? Julian has to leave and he'll go mad if you stay behind while  
the rest of Merrick's gang is out there. And besides...you owe me."

Duncan gave a playful, exaggerated huff, a sure sign that he was close to  
giving in. "I owe you?"

"Yeah. If they come after you and catch you again, I'll have to come running  
to your rescue, and I'm already up by three." Methos looked sincere and  
annoyingly smug.

"Three? How do you figure? You were down by two last I knew." Mac's voice took  
on a shrill note as he swung into the play-fight he and Methos engaged in to  
release some of his tension. Changing his name went against the fundamental  
structure that he had built his life on, yet Methos' words held wisdom. This  
wasn't like fighting Immortals at all. The rules were completely different and  
often ignored. Duncan also realized that while he trusted Julian, Methos would  
probably have a harder time doing so, yet he believed going to San Francisco  
was a good choice. It was basically running and hiding, but he acknowledged his  
ignorance of the enemy and the need to regroup. "This whole vampire thing shook  
you up so bad you can't do math now?"

"On the contrary. This whole "vampire thing" is worth way more than one. I  
deserve at least five for what I went through..."

"Bullocks! This wasn't any more dangerous than that time you pinched that  
Swedish weight lifter's arse..."

Methos placed a hand on Duncan's back and herded him back into the house,  
never once letting up on the argument. "Oh come on! While I can see why you  
would draw parallels between her and the Kindred, you have to admit she was  
slightly less interested in bloodletting for the sake of it..."

"Says you..."

Back in the house, Duncan had called Joe, assuring him that he and Methos were  
fine, but that Methos had talked him into taking a few weeks off for the dust  
to settle. Joe was flabbergasted that the old man managed to pull that one off,  
and also promised to keep half an eye on Mac's apartment. Duncan cautioned him  
to stay out of it: if any of Merrick's remaining gang caught Joe there, they  
would probably kill him. Methos watched MacLeod closely. While leaving an area  
was not a foreign idea to the other Immortal, it had probably been quite some  
time since Mac had just picked up and left with the clothes on his back.  
Grendal had returned Duncan's katana to him, and as far as Methos was  
concerned, a sword and a coat to hide it in was all you really needed. Probably  
explained why Immortals rarely kept pets and houseplants. Duncan said good-bye  
and handed the phone to Methos.

"Hey, Joe. Don't listen to MacLeod, it's not like it's forever. Just a little  
while until things get sorted out."

"Yeah well, you guys take care of each other and hurry back. You have a hefty  
bar tab I plan on collecting."

"What?"

Joe paused, his voice sadder when he continued. "No free beer this month.  
Abbie never came back."

Methos' lips tightened into a thin line, distressed by the other man's loss.  
"She might still be out there, Joe. She might have gone into hiding herself."  
The Watcher remained quiet, his silence indicating how unlikely that was and  
how much the girl had meant to him. "I'm sorry, Joe."

Joe cleared his throat. "Yeah, me too. You guys just get back in one piece,  
okay?"

Methos said his good-byes and set down the phone. Walking over to Cash, he  
boldly slipped his hand into the young man's coat pocket, making him squirm  
with some delight as questing fingers groped his side. "Hey...what are you  
doing?"

Finding his prize, the elder man pulled the small cell phone out, the same  
cell Julian had found on the roof of the burning barn, the one he had used to  
call Grendal. Flipping it open, Methos called up the directory and found Joe's  
number. "Damn." He sighed, sparing a thought for the girl who had unwittingly  
saved their lives.

Cash sensed Methos' mood shift. "Something wrong?"

Methos pocketed the phone and gave Cash a weak smile. "Just lost one of the  
good ones is all."

Cash nodded, knowing Grendal too was going to be presiding over a number of  
funeral ceremonies in the coming nights. He put an arm around the Immortal's  
shoulder, rubbing gently as they followed the others out to the garage. Julian  
was saying his good-byes to Thomas and Mac was folding up his large frame to  
fit into the passengers seat. Cash had offered to drive, but Julian had decided  
he wanted to, the older Kindred too keyed up by events and needing to feel in  
control. Methos and Cash exchanged polite words with Grendal and took over the  
back seat. Cash was surprised at how much space Methos could fill once he got  
into a relaxed sprawl and gave up on having his own spot, settling himself  
comfortably against Methos and enjoying the warm and pliable body by his side. 

The car drifted out towards the highway, southward bound for the city of San  
Francisco. Duncan took a deep breath and glanced at Julian, who smiled  
reassuringly and reached for the Immortal's hand, deciding to not let go of it  
for the entire trip. In the back seat, the warmth and swaying motion of the car  
had lulled Cash into a restful mode, and before long his head had found it's  
way into Methos' lap. The Immortal didn't mind, absently running his fingers  
through Cash's wild hair as his breathing evened out in sleep. Methos stared  
out the window at the passing night, his reflection in the window bouncing back  
an image of worry on his face. Around MacLeod and the others he had been calm  
and fairly confident, but now his old fears were nipping at his heels, taunting  
him with the knowledge that whatever happened to him now, he had voluntarily  
agreed to nest with a group of vampires. He rubbed his face roughly, muttering  
under his breath.

"What in hell was I thinking?"

* * *

The sound rumbled long and low, and Cash crouched down behind the crumbling  
brick wall, senses wide open in hopes of locating the source. It wasn't quite a  
growl, but it was close enough to warrant investigation. Cash suddenly saw the  
door in the wall, wondering why he hadn't noticed it before, and quickly  
stepped through, hoping to get to higher ground to search the surrounding area.  
He had the vague notion he was supposed to be protecting Julian, but he also  
had the feeling his Prince was close by and okay, although he hadn't seen him  
yet. 

Climbing the worn wooden stairs, he passed through an apartment, the walls  
painted a dull green which reflected the flickering of the small, old black and  
white television which was playing some kind of music show. He shook his head  
at the sight; the TV was always on, even when no one was there to watch it. He  
could smell something on the stove, and the lingering scent of beer that was  
probably due to the time he had dumped an entire bottle onto the couch  
cushions. Like so many times before, he walked to the closet door, knowing  
there was something horrible there he shouldn't see but unable to stop himself  
all the same. He hated that he did this because it always made him scream and  
that hurt his throat terribly and he never expected there to be so much  
blood...

That growly sound came again, and for the first time he left the closet to  
quickly run up to his room and push up the creaky window, climbing out onto the  
roof top. It was sunny out, but not hot, and the pigeons were cooing softly in  
their cages. Cash stepped to the edge of the roof and looked down into the  
alley below, past Mrs. O'Leary's laundry stretched between the buildings,  
raking his eyes over the garbage cans neatly arranged along the wall. There was  
nothing. Then the growl came again, very close to him. 

Cash spun around and spotted a large, dark grey fox next to him on the roof.  
It was looking intently at him, it's green eyes searching his soul for  
something, but Cash did not feel threatened or hunted. His first thought was  
for the pigeons, but a quick look at the cage revealed that all was well.  
Swinging his vision back to the fox, he was mildly alarmed to see that the  
animal was closer now, and seemed to be bigger than he expected it to be. It  
growled again and Cash growled back, hoping to scare it off, but instead it  
leaped at him. He tried to turn and run away, but his legs seemed so slow to  
respond, as if he were mired in molasses. The fox's jump landed short of his  
throat but it snapped at the space between his legs. Happily, Cash had managed  
to turn so that the fox's snout bumped into his thigh instead. Their movements  
had knocked Cash off balance and he and the fox crashed to the ground, the spot  
on his thigh warm under the fox's touch. Cash recovered quickly and his eyes  
flew open to stare intently into...

Burgundy velour.

Cash blinked in confusion, wondering how a wall of burgundy velour got onto  
the roof. Then there was a soft, snuffly sound and he turned his head to look  
up into the sleepy, blood-shot eyes of the man who's lap he had been snoozing  
in. Methos blinked slowly, then smiled lazily at Cash, his hand flexing gently  
on the Kindred's thigh.

"Mornin'," Methos greeted, followed by an immense yawn and a low, grumbly  
sound by Cash's ear which made the Kindred laugh and poke Methos lightly in the  
midsection.

"So that's what I've been hearing." 

Methos smirked. "Yeah, it does that when I'm famished." 

Cash stifled another laugh as the Immortal's stomach growled again. "It was in  
my dream."

"Really? And did you feed me in your dream?"

Cash's brow furrowed, trying to remember the dream which was dissolving into  
wisps in his mind. "Not sure. There were pigeons though..." He rose into a  
seated position and stretched his legs as well as he could in the cramped  
space.

"Oh, lovely. Breakfast of Champions."

Cash quirked a smile at Methos, then leaned in to steal a kiss. The startled  
Immortal would have enjoyed the attention far more if his basic need for food  
wasn't clamoring quite so loudly. Cash broke the kiss and, squeezing Methos'  
belly playfully, leaned forward to see how Julian was doing. Duncan had slumped  
against Julian's shoulder, deep in slumber and drooling on the Kindred. Julian  
was preoccupied with driving and mouthing the words to the song "Kodachrome"  
which was playing low on the radio. He caught Cash's eye in the rear view  
mirror and winked at him, tired but essentially happy. Cash glanced down, his  
eyes widening, at once remembering Julian rarely did any of his own driving.

"Uh, Julian? I think we need to stop for gas."

"Shit." Julian bit his lip in embarrassment as he noted the needle of the gas  
tank pegged as far left as it would go. They managed to make the next exit, the  
slowing of the car waking Duncan who blinked owlishly out of the tinted  
windows. 

"We there yet?" 

Julian rubbed Duncan's arm, half to wake him and half to enjoy the feel of the  
man. "No, pit stop. We need gas."

Methos perked up from the back seat. "And coffee." His stomach growled loudly  
and Duncan turned in the seat to smirk at him.

"Oh yeah, definitely coffee." 

Julian quickly located a gas station and they pulled in. Duncan and Methos  
popped out, heading for the convenience store inside and leaving the Kindred to  
deal with fueling the car. The brightness inside the store made them stop to  
wince and blink, and Duncan wondered what a sight they made in their wrinkled  
clothes and wild hair. He had borrowed Methos' coat to cover the ripped and  
blood-stained shirt he wore, but there was no hiding the soot and grime on  
their clothes from the barn fire. One bored looking attendant held court behind  
the counter, but only gave them a cursory glance. At this hour of the morning,  
Duncan imagined she had probably seen worse specimens crawl in. He turned his  
attention to Methos who had quickly zeroed in on the location of the coffee and  
was busy fussing with the dispenser. The elder man sipped gingerly at the brown  
liquid, pouring a cup when he was satisfied with the flavor and then lining up  
three more.

Duncan's dark brows knitted together in a scowl as he looked curiously at his  
friend. "Geez Methos, how much coffee do you need to get going in the morning?"

Methos chuckled softly. "Not all for me. One for you." He jerked his head  
towards the car outside. "And I figured the guys would want some." Duncan  
nodded, groggily wondering why he hadn't thought of that and deciding he  
couldn't really spare the brain power to think about it as he rummaged around  
for cream and sugar.

Methos found lids and arranged the cups in a tray. "You know, I was thinking.  
We have to come up with a new name for you. How about something like...Chip  
Adamson?" It took all the self-control he possessed to keep his poker face in  
place.

Duncan leveled an exasperated glare at him. "Adamson? As in 'Adam's son'?  
You're daft."

Methos had that mischievous gleam in his eye he always got when baiting the  
Highlander. "Well, I think I might be old enough to be your Da."

Mac snorted and threw a cellophane wrapped pastry at him. "Here, have this.  
It's almost as old as you are."

Deftly catching the missile, Methos looked dubiously at the ingredients.  
"Yeah, and with what's in it, it'll be here for the next Gathering." He lobbed  
the pastry back onto the rack. "You think the guys will be hungry? We should  
get enough for all of us." Duncan nodded, but offered no suggestions. Methos  
grabbed a box and waved it in front of him. "How about donuts? They're a  
universal food."

"Okay, but not those. Get the chocolate ones."

Methos' eyes scanned across the rack. "They don't have chocolate ones."

"Right there."

"Chip, those aren't donuts, those are donut holes."

"Same difference. And if you call me Chip again, I'll break your arm."

Nutritionally questionable items in hand, the two Immortals paid the bored  
attendant and returned to the car. The debate over new identities raged as the  
men adjusted the coffee to their taste and passed around the donut holes.  
Duncan waited until Methos had his mouth full to needle the old Immortal,  
hoping the pastry would keep Methos' acerbic tongue busy. "Julian, honestly-do  
I look like a Chip to you? Of course not. Methos, on the other hand, has  
decided on Bunny Wigglesworth." 

Cash couldn't hide his grin and sneaked a look at Methos, who swallowed  
deliberately and speared Duncan with a withering glare. "You're giddy, now shut  
up and eat your hole."

The young Gangrel very nearly choked on his coffee, but of course that comment  
gave Duncan all sorts of ideas and he calmly took one out of the box and  
offered it to Julian. "Julian, would you like to eat my-"

Julian quickly placed a hand over Duncan's mouth. "Uh-uh...do not go there..."  
The Kindred tried to look stern, but he could feel Duncan shaking with  
suppressed laughter and hear the snorting of the two men in back, and he  
grinned despite his efforts. After a round of giggles, Julian swung the car  
back onto the highway. They were all getting punchy and he really, really  
wanted to lie down in his own bed, preferably with Duncan in his embrace.

Julian drove on, winding an arm firmly around his lover who was again snuggled  
next to him, watching the scenery change. The Prince's thoughts flew ahead to  
their destination and he pondered how each Kindred in his household was going  
to react to Duncan and Methos. Lillie would immediately sense that Duncan was  
the man Julian was in love with, especially since Julian had no plans to keep  
their affair a secret. He would have to watch her; her jealousy was fairly  
legendary. The rest would receive word that the two humans were off limits and  
would leave them well alone of they wanted to live. Early in the trip Julian  
had decided Daedalus would be told the truth of what Duncan and Methos were. He  
would have figured it out easily enough, but Julian liked to stay upfront with  
the Nosferatu. He was a good friend and he deserved Julian's honesty. Likewise,  
he deemed it only fair that Duncan and Methos meet the only other Kindred who  
knew their secret. 

Before long the car was pulling into the stately driveway of the Kindred  
compound. As Julian expected, Lillie had come out to greet him and the  
quicksilver shifting of emotions across her face held clues as to how she felt  
about him not coming home alone. Shortly after the battle at the Rosemont  
estate, Julian had phoned her and explained about his narrow escape from  
Merrick, but never mentioned the two men who were now climbing out of the car  
and stretching like cats in the sun. Last thing Lillie knew, Julian was on his  
way to Seacouver to break things off with his mortal lover and she had been  
planning how best to take Julian's mind off his doomed love affair. However,  
Julian was not as predictable as she might wish, and now here he stood, his arm  
around the back of a tall, dark-haired man with eyes that would have charmed  
her completely if she didn't know he was her rival. Julian broke away from him  
long enough to hug her briefly and began to make introductions until he  
realized neither Duncan nor Methos had told him which names they had settled  
on.

"Gentlemen, this is my colleague, Lillie Langtry. Lillie...this is..."

Duncan stepped forward. "Pleased to meet you, Lillie. I'm Paul Lewis."

"Welcome Mr.. Lewis."

"Call me Paul." Duncan smiled warmly at her, instinctively feeling the need to  
charm this woman..

Methos had come around the side of the car, that nasty gleam lighting his eyes  
again. "Or call him Chip." Methos smiled smugly, enjoying the death glare  
Duncan was sending his way. Brushing past the fuming man, he stretched a hand  
out to the female Kindred who was looking at him with intense calculation.  
"David McPherson, at your service." Lillie smiled like a cat who had just been  
handed the keys to the bird cage and Methos wondered if she would take his  
offer of servitude literally. 

"So glad to meet you. I wish I had known you were coming, I'd have had the  
guest rooms aired out." Her comments were directed at the two Immortals, but  
her gaze was boring into Julian, making her point. With a gracious smile, she  
beckoned them all up the stone steps to the main house and ignoring the  
whispered argument the two men were having with each other.

"McPherson? No fair-why do you get be Mac?"

"It's not "Mac" it's "Mc." There's a difference."

"Same difference."

"Donuthole."

Duncan and Methos found themselves in an impressive foyer, all lush carpeting  
and dripping with fine furniture and antiques. Lillie was mildly disappointed  
at the indifference the two were paying to the surroundings; normally people  
either gasped or stared goggle-eyed at the amount of history and old wealth on  
display. These two acted like they had seen it all before! 

The group climbed more stairs and Julian chose two guest rooms that were  
close to his own, confirming Lillie's prediction that Paul was going to be  
spending most of his time at the house in Julian's bedroom. She had puzzled out  
Paul's role, but she was still working on David's when she spied Cash slip an  
arm around the nervous-looking man and bring him in for a hug against his side.  
David looked at Cash and the Gangrel returned the look with a smoldering smile.  
Lillie kept her eyes from bugging out, but a wicked grin crept across her face  
in defiance of her well bred manners. She knew Cash and Sasha were not close  
lovers anymore, but if Cash was sleeping with this mortal....this MAN....there  
were some fireworks in store that would prove most entertaining. At the very  
least, it would take her mind off Julian and his choice of lover. Damn Julian,  
why did he have to go and pick such a good looking one? Her mood lifted  
somewhat as she made her way downstairs, presumably to arrange for dinner  
later, but in reality she went hunting for Sasha.

Julian stretched and made a face. He felt like he had been in the same clothes  
for weeks and he was dying to get the ash out of his hair. "What do you say we  
all hit the showers?" He smiled at his friends and slung an arm around Duncan  
who swayed slightly where he stood.

"Sounds good to me."

Methos yawned with gusto and rubbed his eyes, his exhaustion overriding his  
sense of unease at being in a house full of vampires. "I may just fall asleep  
standing up."

Cash rubbed the back of Methos' neck and guided him towards the guest room.  
"Don't worry, I'll make sure you don't drown." 

"Mmmm. I can think of one way you can keep me propped up." Without looking  
back, Methos waved cheerily behind him as he was lead off to be pampered and  
petted. He very nearly purred.

Julian began ushering Duncan into his room, looking forward to washing his  
lover and relaxing himself, but the man seemed rooted to the spot. He was  
staring at the door where Cash and Methos had disappeared until he finally  
blinked and looked at Julian accusingly, waving a hand vaguely at the closed  
door.

"When did...how long...you knew about this?"

Julian was confused at first, then realized Duncan had no way of knowing that  
his best friend and Julian's bodyguard had become somewhat intimate.  
"Er...well, yes."

Duncan huffed, but let himself be lead into Julian's private suite. "You mind  
telling me about it?"

"Well... I thought you'd know all about this. See, sometimes two men are  
attracted to each other and...ow! Hey." Julian rubbed his arm where Duncan had  
pegged him.

"Don't be such a donuthole." Julian was confused again, so he went with  
sweeping Duncan into his arms for a long delayed kiss.

One thing you couldn't knock progress for...the invention of the in-house  
shower. While Duncan had felt twenty pounds lighter after shedding his soiled  
clothing, he felt positively weightless when he finally turned his face into  
the spray of warm water, letting it sluice down the sides of his head and run  
in tiny rivers through his hair. He felt a twinge of guilt as he enjoyed his  
momentary solitude. Julian was busy with some detail of his return to San  
Francisco, and it afforded Duncan a few moments to hog the cleansing water all  
to himself. His lover would join him soon enough and Duncan was looking forward  
to getting soaped and rubbed down by those knowing hands as well as sliding his  
own palms over Julian's well formed flesh. 

Resting his forehead against the steam-warmed tile, Duncan closed his eyes. He  
felt a weightlessness, then a small jerking motion and realized he was falling  
asleep standing up. He knew several minutes had passed as the water swirling  
around the drain was running clear, having taken most of the grime from his  
hair and body into the ancient waterways below. His mind threw out stray  
thoughts like dice tumbled onto a casino table. How safe was he and Methos  
here, in the heart of the vampire kingdom? What if they died accidentally, and  
the others saw them revive? Should he get out of the shower and lie down before  
he fell over and killed himself? Did all of Julian's vampire Clan live in this  
one big house? Duncan looked aimlessly around the shower for a bar of soap,  
finally pawing through various plastic bottles before finding one which  
declared itself as shower gel. He aimed the nozzle at his chest and squeezed,  
applying the cool, slick glop of blue soap on himself like mustard on a hot  
dog. He giggled at the mental image, then squirted a line of it down his penis.  
A pleasant, manly scent wafted up to him, the gel odor calculated to smell  
masculine without being harsh. He smiled and ran his fingers through the stuff,  
working it back and forth between one nipple and the next, sighing heavily when  
it dawned on him that this wasn't even fun unless it was Julian who was doing  
it. 

Like a wish granted, Julian swept aside the shower curtain and climbed in next  
to his lover. Duncan was struck dumb for a moment as his senses were bombarded  
by Julian's nakedness. Every glistening inch of the man commanded attention and  
for a delirious moment, Duncan wanted to be the water that leapt from the  
shower head and threw itself at that perfect body, rewarded for it's efforts by  
a sensuous glide down smooth, pale skin. Julian luxuriated for a moment in the  
spray, sighing softly, his hands lightly stroking his quiet lover beside him as  
the first layer of dirt washed away. Despite the myth, not all Kindred were  
fastidious about their appearance, but this cleansing felt more ritualistic.  
Duncan was safe, Merrick was dead and they had defeated his followers,  
surviving the attempt on their lives. The past hours seemed to melt away, the  
smell of smoke and fear retreating down the drain and taking the past with it.  
He grabbed a bottle of shampoo and massaged it into Duncan's curls, combing his  
fingers through as the water rinsed the bubbles out. His own, shorter hair took  
less time, but he enjoyed the feeling of his lover's hands on his head, sighing  
his satisfaction.

Julian slowly opened his eyes and met Duncan's deep brown ones, smiling warmly  
at the man as he gently pulled Duncan close, wrapping his arms around him and  
nudging open his full lips in a kiss. Julian's senses shivered with the feel of  
Duncan's warm skin on the outside and the even warmer interior of his mouth.  
Slick and wet, his tongue glided over Julian's and the Kindred moaned. He  
squeezed the mortal slightly tighter, needing to be even closer, but this only  
seemed to make Duncan harder to hold onto. The mortal practically oozed out of  
his grasp, and he snickered into the kiss when he realized Duncan was slick  
with soap. He pulled back, smiling warmly as he rocked his body back and forth  
against Duncan, who joined him by sliding his torso against Julian's. The soap  
lathered between them, creating a bubbly lube that both men began running their  
hands through, caressing as much as they cleaned. Hot kisses were exchanged as  
the warm lather traveled over hips and dipped into secret places, helped along  
by exploring fingers testing the readiness of willing flesh. 

Breathy moans echoed in the spacious shower and cocks were gently scrubbed  
clean between stroking fists. Despite his exhaustion, Duncan writhed,  
completely enjoying the sensuousness of rubbing his whole body against his  
lover's. Julian's finger had worked its way into Duncan's ass, causing him to  
rise up onto his toes with a gasp. He was shaking and moaning, willing his  
stamina to hold out until he had the chance to come. Julian's lips had latched  
onto Duncan's shoulder, tonguing and sucking him as his cock slid and bumped  
against Duncan's, both phalluses smashed between their bodies. He felt Duncan  
jerk violently and more wetness, hot and slick, spread along his torso, bathing  
his own cock with Duncan's seed. It was enough to bring him to orgasm, and he  
clutched Duncan as his head snapped back and he moaned heavily. They stood for  
a long moment, collecting their breath and their senses, keeping each other  
upright. Julian leaned in for another kiss, nuzzling Duncan's soft and pliable  
lips, rocking the mortal gently in his arms.

"I meant what I said, you know."

Duncan had his eyes closed and did not bother to open them, floating in the  
arms of afterglow. "Mmmmm?"

"At your place. I told you I loved you." Julian swallowed deeply, wondering if  
it had been a mistake to bring up their break-up. "It wasn't just because I was  
upset. I really do love you."

Duncan looked at the man holding him. Sincerity burned brightly in Julian's  
eyes, nearly causing Duncan's knees to buckle, but the Kindred felt him sway  
and held him a bit tighter. His Kindred lover didn't wait patiently for Duncan  
to declare his love for him, he had spoken what he felt and that was all he had  
intended, he was not trying to maneuver Duncan into the same response. Tilting  
his head up and plundering Duncan's mouth in another wet kiss, he turned their  
bodies into the spray to wash away the semen still clinging to them. Pulling  
away and smiling at Duncan's blank look, he shut off the water and gently lead  
his lover out of the shower to towel him dry. Duncan let himself be coddled; it  
felt nice and allowed his mind freedom to weigh heavy thoughts.

Despite his exhaustion, Duncan's thoughts were clear on one thing: he loved  
Julian as he had few others. Tessa came first to his mind, like a star that had  
shone with such brilliance, only to be extinguished in the space of a  
heartbeat. His other mortal loves were subject to the same destiny, always  
dying so soon, like fragile mayflies. Loving Immortals was often not the best  
solution as they had the opposite problem. Even Amanda, whom he liked more than  
most, got on his nerves after a while and would take off for years at a clip,  
leaving Duncan unsure when she would return and whether it would be long enough  
for him to forgive whatever havoc she had caused. Methos had been the only  
Immortal who had come close to being his lover, but events and opposing  
viewpoints had kept them at arms length, their feelings for each other never  
really spoken or explored. Duncan had always harbored the feeling they would  
eventually get around to testing the water between them, but then Julian had  
come into his life and lit fires in his soul. As a Kindred, he had the ability  
to outlive a mortal life span, capable of appreciating the unique Immortal  
perspective on life and survival and the concerns Immortals faced of being  
exposed to the general populace. Plus Duncan's heart was no longer his own, it  
was as simple as that. He would give just about anything to spend a few  
centuries with Julian, if Kindred survived that long.

Duncan reached up, lazily tracing a finger down Julian's strong jaw and stared  
for a moment at his wolfish eyes, realizing the Kindred had an advantage the  
Immortals did not. Like wolves, they banded together for their survival,  
helping each other to keep their secret and protecting each others backs. True,  
they warred amongst themselves, but they enjoyed a measure of trust that was  
nearly impossible for the Immortals who were hell bent on destroying one  
another until only one remained. Duncan felt more at ease within this Kindred  
stronghold than he would have at any large gathering of Immortals, and he felt  
none of the twitchiness he had come to accept when in the presence of his  
fellow kind. Conner, Fitz, Amanda, Methos and Richie were a select few whom he  
trusted completely, and look what had happened to Richie! How ironic that the  
vampires, a race of beings so associated with death, were fundamentally more  
about life than any Immortal he knew. He felt safe with Julian despite what had  
happened their last night together, which he was now fairly certain had been  
accidental. At least he desperately wanted to believe it was accidental. Duncan  
trusted his warrior instincts, and nothing about Julian was setting alarm bells  
off at all, save for the ones around his heart which he had just argued into  
silence. 

Duncan pulled himself out of his thoughts, only mildly surprised to find  
himself climbing into bed, Julian right behind him. They settled between the  
silky sheets, arranging arms and legs to allow the most touching possible, with  
Duncan using Julian's chest as his personal pillow. Julian had dried Duncan's  
hair as best he could with the towel, which pleased Duncan immensely as he  
disliked hot, noisy blow dryers, and now Julian was gently carding his fingers  
through the still damp tresses. While it served to detangle his hair, the  
motion across his scalp soothed Duncan, who realized he wanted to say something  
before he drifted off to sleep.

"And I meant what I said. On the roof. It wasn't just because I thought we  
were going to die. I love you more than anyone I've known." Julian clutched him  
tighter, releasing a breath he had been holding and swallowed with difficulty.  
He knew Duncan was as scared as he was, and he had been glad Duncan had thought  
about it before answering with his own declaration of love. Yes, there was  
going to be some serious discussion about Duncan's death and the parameters of  
their relationship, but Julian was content to leave that for a much later date.  
He kissed the top of Duncan's head and continued to caress the dark hair until  
he heard soft snoring. A huge grin swept across Julian's face as he stole one  
last kiss. 

In the bedroom across the hall, small, muffled noises of pleasure worked their  
way under the door. Inside the dark room, Methos, stark naked, lay sprawled  
across the big bed, his legs spread wantonly as he gripped the golden spikes of  
hair on the head that was wedged between his legs. Methos was trying  
desperately to keep from shouting while Cash was just as determined to make  
Methos scream, his tongue licking the length of the engorged cock before it  
slid down his throat again. 

"Ah!...you're...cheating!" Methos panted.

Cash looked up, letting the rigid sex pop out from between his lips and  
grinned like a devil. Ever so gently, he ran his fangs down Methos' length,  
sending chills up the Immortals spine. For a split second, Cash reminded Methos  
of Kronos, mixing heady pleasure with a touch of fear, and enjoying every  
single moment of it. The test of endurance had begun in the shower, Methos  
bringing Cash to orgasm quickly and with moans that echoed loudly off the tile.  
He had then made the mistake of taunting the Kindred for his lack of restraint,  
and was now paying the price for it.

Cash swallowed him again and Methos arched backward, driving his cock deeper  
into Cash's throat, pleased that the young Kindred had enough control not to  
gag. The tight wetness was driving Methos wild, sliding over his member again  
and again, finally bringing him to a shattering release. He keened softly as  
his orgasm washed over him, biting his lips until the last aftershocks melted  
away. Cash gently cleaned his cock with a soft tongue, nuzzling the pliant  
belly and dragging himself up to cradle Methos in his arms. Normally the older  
Immortal would have protested, but right now he was too tired, too relaxed and  
way too blissed out to care. Besides, he had tucked his sword within grabbing  
distance on this side of the bed and he had no intentions of moving from the  
spot.

Cash nibbled gently on an earlobe and shared one sloppy kiss before settling  
down. He was especially glad that the two Immortals had decided to spend time  
at the Kindred stronghold. Cash had come to respect them and enjoyed Methos'  
company, and it wasn't just the sex. There was something untamed in the man's  
eyes, a wickedness that gave Cash rebellious ideas and challenged him at the  
same time. His presence here would be a welcome distraction from the almost  
constant ache of the fights he had been having with Sasha. Part of Cash would  
always be vaguely guilty about what had happened to Sasha, even though his  
rational mind knew it was not his fault. Still, he couldn't help thinking that  
if he hadn't been attracted to Sasha, she might still be blissfully human. And  
part of him wondered if somewhere in her heart, she didn't blame him as much as  
the Brujah who Embraced her. 

With Methos, Cash didn't feel the constant need to apologize, despite all that  
the man had been through. He gently brushed hair from Methos' brow, knowing the  
Immortal was awake and wary even though his eyes never flickered. He drew up an  
impressive amount of covers which pleased Methos greatly, and snuggled around  
the man more firmly. He sighed deeply when Methos threw a casual arm over him,  
content as he drifted off.

* * *

A knock on the door brought Duncan out of his thoughts, but he continued  
brushing his teeth as he crossed the bedroom to open it, knowing who it would  
be by the Presence he felt. Methos leaned against the doorjamb as if it were  
the most comfortable spot in the house and smiled at him, his eyes mischievous.  
Duncan knew Methos well enough now to figure out that he had not been the only  
one to get lucky last night and as he made his way back to the bathroom sink,  
he set his mind to accepting the fact that Methos and Cash were having sex.  
Rather good sex, if the rosiness of Methos' pale cheeks were any indication.

"Sleep well, Paul?"

Duncan blinked, missing his cue for a second, then nodded as he finished  
brushing. Toweling his damp face he smiled at the older Immortal who had  
drifted in behind him.

"Got about as much as you did, old man."

Methos' grin widened, knowing Duncan was probably burning with questions and  
too polite to ask. Well, he wasn't about to let the Scot off that easy. If he  
wanted to know details, he was going to have to work for it. "So, what's this  
all about anyway?"

Duncan shrugged, knowing Methos was referring to Julian's request. "I'm not  
entirely sure. Julian said he wanted us to meet an old, dear friend of his  
before breakfast...er, dinner...or.." He glanced at his watch, noting it was  
seven in the evening and looked at Methos apologetically. "Really late lunch?" 

Methos smiled indulgently. "At least it's cool enough here to wear a trench  
coat." Going anywhere in the Kindred compound made him nervous enough to want  
the solid weight of his Ivanhoe by his side. Duncan nodded agreement as he put  
Julian's toiletries back into the cabinet and strode out of the bathroom,  
Methos following behind. "Sometimes though, don't you just wish it was like it  
was in the old days, when a man could wear his sword by his side as a sign of  
his skill and good breeding instead of dangerous psychosis?"

Duncan snorted as he shrugged into his own coat. "Yeah, but we smell way  
better than we did back then."

"Speak for yourself, barbarian."

Duncan took the bait. "Oh, please. You act like the only one to ever have  
experienced a bath before 1850."

"Hey-when in Rome." He grinned again, the familiarity of their banter soothing  
his nerves somewhat, but an underlying alertness swept through him and his tone  
became serious. "I swear MacLeod, if it turns out we can't trust your  
boyfriend, I'll have your head." 

Duncan faced him, clasping his arms and looking deep into his friend's eyes.  
"If I can't trust Julian, I'll ask you to take it." He pulled the other  
Immortal into an embrace, his heart shrinking from the possibility of Julian  
setting them up. He was, quite literally, staking their lives on Julian's love.

Methos hugged Duncan tightly. "You really love him, don't you?"

"Yes." Duncan felt Methos rub his back gently, knowing the other Immortal  
understood love well enough to forgive him some blindness. "But I have you to  
keep my eyes open."

Methos pulled back then, sighing. "Absolutely. One of us has to think with the  
big head." It made Duncan smile again, and that was enough for Methos.

A soft knock sounded at the door and both Immortals stepped into the hall to  
join Julian and Cash. Kisses of greeting were exchanged between the couples,  
then, using a back staircase, they made their way out of the house and around  
towards a lighted underground area.

"I wanted you both to meet an old friend of mine, Daedalus." Since the  
Immortals could have easily met him later at dinner, but were being introduced  
personally by Julian, they surmised the Kindred Prince was letting them know  
that they were meeting another Kindred they could trust. 

Methos wasn't keen on entering the burrow, a very hard place to escape from  
should the need arise. "He lives in the basement? Doesn't that break some sort  
of housing code?"

Julian chuckled. "It's not my idea, he's more comfortable this way. Not all  
Kindred look as Cash and I do. There is a Clan known as the Nosferatu who must  
endure some disfigurement as the price of their Kindred blood. Daedalus is the  
Primogen, the head of the Nosferatu Clan in this city. Fair, honorable, and one  
of my oldest friends." They slowly entered Daedalus' lair, peering at the  
paintings that hung on the wall and littered the floor. Both Immortals had seen  
enough art through the centuries to be able to pick up on Daedalus' expressions  
of despair, inner torment and loneliness. A portrait of a young boy seemed more  
hopeful, but there was a huge gash down the middle of it as if someone had torn  
it in anguish. 

While stone walls, bookcases, and faded, ancient furniture were lit softly by  
dozens of candles and other low lights set about the rooms, the place seemed  
empty. Julian knew better though; he could feel his Primogen somewhere down  
here, and he prayed that Daedalus wouldn't just appear out of thin air. It was  
child's play to sneak up on a human but damn hard to do it to Kindred, yet the  
Nosferatu could spook even Archon with his stealth. Julian tended to think of  
it as the only evidence that Daedalus had a sense of humor, and he normally  
didn't mind, but his guests were already jumpy. 

"Julian. I'm over here."

The deep voice drifted over the stacks and Julian silently blessed the man.  
Turning around the corner of the bookcase, Julian walked into an open area  
flanked on two sides by more large bookcases. Daedalus was seated at a wooden  
table covered in books, his back to a wall that contained a fireplace with a  
small fire blazing in it, and at once Julian knew Daedalus had carefully set  
the stage as only a diplomatic Primogen could. He knew Julian was bringing his  
new love to meet him, and what had transpired in Seacouver, and was aware of  
how jumpy the humans would no doubt be. To present a feeling of openness, he  
had moved furnishings to create a fairly wide space, quite contrary to his  
normal habit of arranging bookcases and fabric walls into a maze-like warren.  
The lighting over the table was modern, too bright for Kindred eyes, but then  
again it wasn't for the Kindred. Daedalus himself was seated in a low chair,  
and only rose slowly as the rest of the party moved into the open area.

Methos, staying close to Cash, couldn't keep his mouth from watering at the  
shear volume of collected works overflowing the cases, his sharp eyes catching  
titles he hadn't seen in centuries. He was just beginning to think he would  
have to thank the Highlander for introducing him to these vampires when he  
turned his attention to the man by the fireplace and froze. Standing right in  
the middle of a cozy reading area, dressed in an elegant black smoking jacket,  
was a creature from Methos' distant past. While the being had been looking at  
Duncan, his gaze immediately riveted to Methos and hung there. Methos grasped  
his concealed sword and stopped breathing, his mind swinging between  
remembering atrocities from the past and how best to kill the three Kindred in  
this room and escape with himself and MacLeod intact. Daedalus' gaze left him  
and swept over Duncan as Julian introduced him.

Methos heard Julian introduce David McPherson and Duncan moved slightly away  
to allow Daedalus to get a good view of him. Methos nodded curtly as Daedalus  
bowed, his eyes once again returning to stare at Methos. While the Kindred's  
face was no doubt a shock to Duncan because he had never seen anything like it,  
it was a shock to Methos because he had. There was no mistaking the hairless  
scalp, large ears and burning eyes that marked the Nosferatu, and Methos  
swallowed deeply. Daedalus turned his attention to his Prince as Julian was  
speaking again, but not before Methos realized that while he was no doubt  
staring at the Kindred with recognition, Daedalus had been looking at him the  
same way. Methos blinked, thinking furiously, trying to remember the past more  
clearly.

"....when I had accidentally drained you, Duncan. I had no idea what had  
happened. It unnerved me greatly and I needed to talk to Daedalus about it."

Daedalus picked up the narrative in his deep and deliberate voice. "I wouldn't  
have had any idea except I remembered a book of myths that was written  
centuries ago by the Malkavian Clan."

Cash snorted. "Malkavian? They're all crazy." Julian glanced at him, but made  
no comment. 

Daedalus tightened his thin lips into a line and explained for the benefit of  
the humans. "The Malkavians have moments of lucidity, but it is nearly  
impossible to know when they occur." He then reached under the pile of books  
on the desk and brought out a withered volume and began to page through it. "I  
kept this as a curiosity. I never imagined anything in here would be true."

Methos scowled darkly, his unease turning to anger and disbelief. "So, you  
identified what we are based on a book of creatures that do not exist that was  
written by a madman?"

Daedalus gave one of his rare smirks. "I found it hard to believe myself,  
until I saw you." He had opened the book to a certain page and spun it around  
so that Duncan and Methos could see. A small gasp escaped Duncan, and Methos'  
eyes nearly fell out of his head. Rendered in a dark brown ink on tawny paper  
were two sketches; one of a bleeding man held captive in a cage, and the other  
was a more detailed close-up. There was no mistaking the eyes, or that nose.  
Methos let out the breath he had held and gently ran a finger over the drawing  
of his face, his memories pouring in like an unstoppable wave. Duncan, being  
closest to him, heard the fragment of whisper coming from the older Immortal.  
"...this...before the Horsemen..."

While Methos blinked hard as the past washed through him, Duncan looked up  
into Daedalus' face for more answers. "So, you knew what I was as soon as you  
heard?"

Daedalus shook his head, eager to make these special humans understand. "If I  
had never kept this book, your kind would be thought of as nothing more than  
wish fulfillment on the part of the Kindred. Even the oldest of us who may have  
heard stories consider them only stories. You are a myth, completely  
unbelievable, just as we Kindred are to humans."

Methos looked up, the past tucked neatly back into dark corners of his mind  
and his anger somewhat subdued. "Looks like we have a bit of a club going  
then."

Julian nodded and indicated Cash and Daedalus. "That's why I wanted you to  
meet Daedalus in person. We three Kindred are the only ones who know your  
secret, and you are the only humans who know what we are. Kindred law does not  
allow humans to know what we are and live. And I'm guessing you don't tell many  
of the people you meet exactly what you are, either."

Methos glanced at Duncan, effectively silencing any more details the  
Highlander may have gotten into his head to spill. "It's true we both need to  
be cautious with humans, but these pages convinced *you* we were real. How can  
we be sure that there won't..."

Methos stopped abruptly as a long, clawed finger shot towards him, descended  
onto the book in front of him and sliced through the two open pages, separating  
them from the ancient binding. Daedalus then gathered them together and handed  
them to Methos, nodding. The old Immortal accepted them, and after stealing a  
glance at Duncan, he walked calmly to the fireplace and set the pages over the  
flame, the fire consuming what he hoped was the most damning evidence of their  
existence in the Kindred world.

Julian and Cash shared a smile and Julian gathered Duncan in for a warm hug.  
"You have your destiny back. Our's isn't the only Masquerade that must be  
kept."  
Fin


End file.
